His son
by Jyalika
Summary: Luke Skywalker, a light born of darkness. For the Jedi survivors he is the new, but not the only hope. For the Dark Lord of the Sith he is the flesh of his own flesh and a chance to the throne. For his guardians he is the gilded egg of a krayt dragon planted into the nest of peaceful inhabitants. But who is he really? OMC-insert into Luke Skywalker. Not canon complaint!
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a translation from Russian, so if you see any mistakes, typos or weirdness, please, tell me. The original text is super huge (and super amazing), so for now I'll be updating every two weeks, but it may change depending on my future workload. Also, I wanted to touch on the subject of self-inserts. This fic is not a classical self-insert, but more like an OMC-insert. This genre is very, very popular in Russia, what with having the opportunity to throw some random person into your favorite universe and watch the chaos unfold, and I'm honestly a little baffled that english-speaking fandom is so intent on the "self" part of self-insert.

Huge thanks to darketo31, who wrote this behemoth of a fic, allowing me the opportunity to translate it.

Hope you all enjoy it!

 **PROLOGUE**

 **Mustafar**

The rage was driving him mad, clouding his sigh with a crimson veil, shading all things visible in ocher and purple tones, manifesting as a yellow poisonous glow in the iris. Making his hands twitch toward the source of the fury, and the Force - to seize his prey with a trapping loop, wounding tight around the neck of his victim like a noose.

She tried to resist, wheezing something, coughing and crying, but the Darkness was whispering in his ears, and he couldn't hear anything apart from the sibilating hiss of the greatest facet of the Force.

Two stars, shining in a soft cocoon and almost ready to be born, pulsed, struggling for their very existence.

" You!" yelled the young man, squeezing the throat of a heavily pregnant woman, which was struggling not to fall from the unsteady feet. "How could you! Liar!"

The cocoon crackled, squeezing the pulsing stars with its elastic walls tighter and tighter under the relentless onslaught of surging darkness.

 _It hurts! Hurts-hurts-hurts!_

 _Scary! Scary-scary-scary!_

Two unbegotten children of the Force were screaming, obeying the ancient instinct.

 _Survive!_

 _Survive at any cost!_

 _Escape, run, hide!_

 _Anything to survive!_

The bigger pulsar, shining unbearably bright, took the brunt of the attack, painfully shuddering under the pressure. He pushed back as best as he could, but the forces were not comparable. Darkness surrounded him, throttling him with its jaws, choking out his glow. He fought it for a few long moments, but in the end succumbed to the pressure and his glow began to dim. In a last desperate attempt to survive the star threw forward a few chaotically moving prominences, blindly groping in the dark, searching for anything that could help.

The smaller star pulsed with white light, trying to escape from the impending horror and pain of a broken connection with its twin. The pressure was growing more and more, the star was crying in horror... In the end the pressure vanished just in time, but the aversion of the Dark had already been firmly imprinted directly into the underlying structure of the forming consciousness.

She timidly, desperately extended a raylet of pure light towards her practically extinguished brother. The dimmed pulsar flashed for the last time, slowly fading away, but still dragging closer another small, but strangely dense multicolored spark. A sudden flare of the Force dislodged the hold the almost extinguished star had on a strange spark, and it started fading again even faster than before. The newcomer hesitated briefly, then gently touched the dying star with a ray - and was instantly sucked into its larger counterpart.

* * *

The delivery was difficult. It was hard for Padmé to keep herself conscious, her mind slowly but steadily giving in under the onslaught of raging hormones, driving her to extremity, killing all coherent thoughts. Anakin was dead. **Dead**. Obi-Wan had been averting his eyes, when telling her this news, taking her up in his arms and awkwardly dragging her in the ship right after. And Padmé… Her thoughts were rushing, whirling in a mad dance, contradicting themselves.

Anakin died?

Died.

Dead.

They landed somewhere and she was picked up again and brought to the ward. The contractions at this point were already going one after another, but she hardly noticed them. Padmé was slipping into madness.

Because Anakin was dead.

Dead.

In her mind she knew she must fight and that her children needed her safe and sound... But her unmoving body was unresponsive and rapidly losing sensitivity. Dangerous apathy was enveloping her with a thick feather duvet, drowning out the sounds of the outside world and crushing the panicked cries of self-preservation instinct. She felt like she was caught in a web, trying and failing to escape from the quicksand.

Anakin was dead.

Dead.

The same thought was spinning and spinning through her head, utterly destroying her will to survive.

Anakin was dead.

Dead.

She tried to fight the addictive call of apathy, because her children... Her children needed her! But then that same thought resurfaced and instantly ruined any progress.

Anakin was dead.

Dead.

Amidala hugged her children with weak fumbling hands.

Twins.

A boy and a girl. Her and her husband's progeny.

Her thoughts rushed about and her mind shook off the cobwebs of lethargy, gathering all the strength left in a single impulse and activating all resources. A logical chain of events, definite and indisputable, started to form, baring the ugly truth of the past and highlighting the terrible prospects for the future. Future, which was closed for her.

She wanted to wail from realizing the mistakes they made, wanted to take refuge in hysterics, that would surely bring the relief to her tormented by hormones body, but couldn't. She had very little time left. There was no future for her, based on how weird Obi-Wan behaved when informing her of Anakin's death.

Oh, he didn't lie, but he didn't tell the whole truth either. Something was very wrong. She sensed it with all of her being - with a mind, sharpened by long years of cut-throat politics, and with a heart, torn apart and bleeding after everything that had already happened.

She didn't see the threat in time and did not act on her vague suspicions, but, in her defense, all of Amidala's thoughts were centered on her children - it was the only thing that could excuse her.

But there was no time for self-depreciation.

She needed to name her children.

She was a pureblood Naboo, which was a very Old family with rich and bloody history. They were one of the founders of the realm; they built it up from the ground, protected and defended it against all enemies century after century. Her children will be the same. She just needed to properly discern their destiny.

Amidala saw the oddly pleased glance the Jedi casted on her as yet unnamed son, laced with deep regret and strange determination. He didn't pay any attention to her daughter, but it was understandable. A strange _something_ radiated from the boy, the same thing she felt from her husband on Mustafar, when he stood before her consumed by thoughtless rage. Her daughter whimpered, but her son looked at her calmly with blue, cloudy eyes.

She needed to give him a strong name that will help him to stand up against future enemies, because there will be many, of that Amidala had no doubt. A strange calm descended upon her. In the end the choice was easy – it felt like her baby could only have that name and no other.

"Luke." Her voice shook with poorly hidden gloating.

The world trembled, as a new thread was woven into the fabric of the universe.

"Leia."

Obi-Wan had disappeared somewhere, and Padmé quickly began to speak. She spoke to her son, hastening to convey everything necessary. She was absolutely sure that even if he did not understand anything right now, a time will come when her child will remember everything.

Soft whispers flowed from her lips until finally her body grew too weak and she collapsed, losing consciousness for the last time.

Medical droids performed resuscitation under the watchful gray eyes, but it was futile. The medicine was powerless when the patient didn't want to live. Having recorded the time of death, droids carefully carried out both children and placed them in special cradle-capsules.

The man standing behind the glass sadly shook his head.

"Goodbye, Padmé. And forgive me. I know you wouldn't have approved, but we have no choice. This is the only option. Sith must be stopped. **At any cost.** "

Approaching the door, he paused again.

"I'm sorry."

He did not look back.

* * *

Somewhere far away a dark silhouette, sitting next to a medical capsule with a charred stump of what had not so long ago been a person inside, smiled in satisfaction.

"Goodbye, stupid queen. You played your role brilliantly."

* * *

"What do you think, Master?"

"Young Skywalker on Tatooine should we send. The renegade dislikes his homeland, dislikes, and will not return to it. Send a child to his distant relatives we should. They will look after him. Look after him closely you also should. The dangers are always there."

"And the girl?"

"Someone who will take her I have in mind. Bail Organa. In love with her mother he once was, he will bring the child up with love as his own daughter."

"Is that not dangerous?"

"A vision I had. Only in this case they will be able to fulfill their mission."

"Very well, Master."

A small green-skinned creature braced himself against a gnarled walking stick and closed his heavy eyelids. Everything happened according to the will of the Force. A twi'lek and zabrak standing nearby silently watched the ships take off and go in completely opposite directions.

* * *

It is said that the soul settles into its future body at conception. I don't know. Could anyone really confirm this? Maybe someone can, but I've never met anybody like this. As for myself - I don't remember. There are only strange, vague memories that emerge in the morning when the dream and reality meet in a shaky unity.

I was flying somewhere through the darkness, filled with cold stars. Millions of them were being born and died before my very eyes. There were warm stars, cold stars, small and big, stars of all colors of rainbow, even black ones!

Suddenly I almost bumped into something strange: a double star, surrounded by a dark cocoon that was gradually closing around the twins tighter and tighter. Their light hadn't been able to pierce the dense wall of darkness. The bigger, brighter star was obviously tired of the fruitless struggle and after a few long moments finally started fading away under the onslaught, still covering the smaller star, wailing in terror.

In the last, desperate effort an almost extinguished star ejected rays of light in all directions, trying to find something, anything to help. But there was nothing. Another attempt - and I was being dragged forward to that almost dead star.

It was a very strange feeling.

 **The merger.**

How to describe it?

My "ego" was merging with a chaotic mixture of instincts and an embryonic mind, as if we were two puzzles that someone scrambled together without any thought or reason. I don't know how else to explain it.

There are no such concepts in human languages.

The feeling was strange, as if my body had suddenly grown some extra arms and legs and acquired some new weird senses, and now the mind was trying to establish contact with all these unexpected appendages.

It was very strange, unusual and even painful.

Seeing sounds, feeling the taste by touch, hearing the tangible... I changed like a kaleidoscope that someone was twirling in their hands - it shows one picture at first, but if you shake the toy, it will show you another. The base material is the same, but the picture is already different.

And then... And then.

Then came the Darkness.

It was everywhere, viciously strangling me, drowning me, driving me into the state of helpless, hopeless panic. I darted around, trying to escape, but it was useless. I almost lost the will to fight, but then an unexpected thought flashed inside my mind: "If you can't beat them - join them."

It was very, very frightening.

But there was no other way out.

I tried to touch the darkness surrounding me... and it worked.

I sank to the bottom of the ocean, into the cold and dark waters of the Mariana Trench, where no light could reach me. The horrific pressure tried to crush my mind, making me twist in agony, scream in fear and rage, but here no one could hear my cries.

The pressure grew and grew, forcing me to compress myself into the smallest shape possible. It was like I was getting denser, trying to absorb at least some of the energy surrounding me, to assimilate it. Any other alternative meant death, final and irrevocable.

I trashed inside that trap, losing more strength with every moment, until finally something broke.

And I swallowed a first drop of the dark energy, surrounding me.

It was sweet poison, burning out its way inside me, bringing unbearable ecstasy and terrible anguish at the same time. First drop was closely followed by the second... the third... each time it was getting easier and easier.

The horrific pressure of the ocean was gradually replaced by weightlessness of the outer space with billions of twinkling stars all around.

I made a convulsive breath of air- and promptly lost consciousness, managing only to pick up the gradual fading of the cocoon of light around me.

Our carrier was slowly dying, not wanting to live anymore, and the connection between us was also dying.

However, there was another thread that connected me to someone else.

To someone of the same blood as me.

* * *

Obi-Wan looked thoughtfully at a peacefully snuffling baby sleeping quietly in the cradle for newborns.

Luke Skywalker.

The child of the Fallen.

The youngling amazed him with his crude, unformed, but nevertheless clearly perceptible strength. Thin searching rays were emanating from the sleeping baby in every direction, fumbling around, clearly trying to find the child's lost parents.

There was no need to worry about the tie to his mother, because her body died not long ago and Padmé clearly did not become a Force Ghost, but a possible link with his father was another matter entirely.

The baby whimpered, restlessly fussing in the warmth of the cradle, which immediately began to rock in response to displeasure of its small inhabitant. The Force stirred up, trying to find the link to the kindred blood of its little wielder, lost due to the increasing distance between them.

Obi-Wan shook his head, concentrating and immersing himself in meditation. A barrier appeared around the cradle, cutting off all of the child's feeble attempts to reach outward.

The baby unhappy opened his bleary eyes and screamed, showing off his vocal abilities in all their glory. He was crying, having abruptly lost the remaining bond with his parent.

Obi-Wan shook his head and stood still, fortifying the barrier.

"There is no emotion: there is peace."

Precise lines of the ancient Code resounded in a small cabin, drowning out the cries of disgruntled Luke.

 _There is no emotion..._

The baby was crying - bitterly and desperately.

 _No emotion..._

Obi-Wan stood up, soothing the baby with the wave of the Force. The child's crying gradually subsided and finally the silence fell inside the cabin.

 _No emotion._

Why was he suddenly feeling so sick then?

Why?

* * *

Bail Organa gently rocked the baby lying in his arms. The tiny girl was asleep, occasionally frowning and unhappy jerking her little hands around.

"Leia... my precious little girl."

"Bail."

Careful to not wake the baby up, Breha walked up to her husband, closely examining the child. Bail held the girl in his arms, cradling her like his own daughter. With a sharp glance the Queen assessed his tight grip, grim determination, reflected on his features, and an overwhelming, uncomplicated happiness, practically radiating from his eyes.

"Do you even understand what you've done? If someone finds out..."

"Nobody will find out. Doctors will confirm your pregnancy and no one would have been able to see anything anyway under your garments. Furthermore, we are on a holiday, there is no court. This is the ideal time."

"Bail," the woman closed her eyes with a tired sigh. "It's all very well, but what are you going to do if her ...special abilities emerge one day? Don't you remember who her father was, Bail?!"

The man's eyes scintillated anger, his face darkened.

"I'm going to hope that this won't happen. But if it will... I still have some connections, even now. There is always a way out, we just need to find it."

"So you say." Breha sadly shook her head, feeling a pang in her heart. Her husband still loved that bullheaded arrogant girl. Even now, or rather, especially now. It was also clear, that he will not give the baby up to anyone. However, even this situation had some bright spots.

It was always risky - setting a Force user on a throne, but risks could be reduced. They just needed to bring the girl up properly. Of course, they won't be able to present her at the Emperor's court for the next few years, but, apparently, there were ways to hide sensitivity to the Force. They needed to make inquiries. Then there was the fact that they couldn't have children of their own - genetic incompatibility – but the realm still needed an heir so as not to return to the strife and chaos that was tearing the country apart before their wedding.

Having made her decision, the woman looked down at the sleeping girl appraisingly. She was of good lineage from the mother's side, because Padmé, while bullheaded and arrogant, was also a queen. So there'd be no damage to the Royal House.

And now she had to deal with the practical side of things.

"Call captain Timerra and doctor Lemar here."

Retreat was impossible, the only way to go was forward.

* * *

"Obi-Wan, are you out of your mind?" Owen Lars unhappily crossed his arms, darkly glaring at the Jedi standing at the door. The aforementioned Jedi looked shabby and haggard. Previously always polished man somehow abruptly aged - not physically, but mentally.

He looked almost shattered.

What the hell happened?

"Owen," quietly began Kenobi, placing the cradle on the floor. "I have nowhere else to go. I can disappear anywhere by myself, but the baby..."

"An orphanage."

"Are you mad, Owen?! He is a force-sensitive! They will find him the next day!" barked Kenobi. His momentary liveliness immediately faded. The Jedi dejectedly rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "He will at least have a chance here."

Owen stared grimly at the cradle with the sleeping baby. With the son of his half-brother. Lars shuddered, remembering Anakin. He would not soon forget the man who brought his dead mother back. He would also not soon forget what they found in the camp of Tuskens, after it was visited by an angry Skywalker.

Lars had little contact with his cousin, but once was enough to make an impression on him. And if the child would grow up to be like his father...

"Owen." Beru's soft voice woke him up from the haze of past memories. "Owen..."

"Okay," he conceded, throwing a threatening glance at the Jedi standing in front of him. "Kenobi, I will say this only once. We will take the boy in, but don't expect me to let you hang around. Force forbids if you start preaching to him you usual drivel. Though I'm not a force user, I still can make your life very, very unpleasant. Are we clear?"

"But Luke is gifted in the Force!" Kenobi looked honestly confused. "He needs to be..."

"He does not need anything from you!" barked the infuriated man. "You already had your shot at raising someone and look how it turned out! Enough! I won't let you destroy one more life!"

Kenobi went pale. His ears rang with a wild scream of his padawan, burning alive - "I hate you!"

* * *

Awakening was painful. Like always. A heavily crippled man lying in a special box opened his bleary eyes and gave a glance around the room.

Everything around was dazzlingly white.

Sterile.

Dead.

Just like him.

Another person's Force gently enveloped him with a thick blanket, helping to breathe, to think...

To exist.

"Welcome back, Lord Vader."

The man just slowly blinked, unable to push words through the scorched throat. Everything ached. But bodily pain could be endured; the feeling of loss, on the other hand, was much, much worse.

There was a gaping void deep in his heart, where once there was a connection with his love, his life.

" **Padme?** " A quiet question slid through the Force from one interlocutor to another. A wave of sympathy came in response.

"I'm sorry, my apprentice, but she's dead. You... killed her."

Charred lids closed, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

 _Killed her. Himself. With his own hands. With his Force. His... will._

 _Killed._

The Force began spinning around the broken man like a whirlpool, moving faster and faster, shaking all the items standing on the table, making the walls creak and groan. A wave of wild despair poured from Vader, choking up the space with his unwillingness to live.

He killed her. Her and...

Various devices started to loudly beep in alarm. His heart stopped beating.

In the next moment a sharp, precisely aimed jolt of the Force started up Vader's heart again.

"Oh no, my apprentice. You will not get rid of me that easily! Don't you dare die, or I'll make you regret it!"

The old Sith concentrated, taking direct control of the body of his apprentice, that was trying to escape into oblivion. The latter tried to fight, but what could he really do against the power of a Dark Lord in his prime? Nothing, that's what.

Vader's heart was beating again, dispersing oxygenated blood throughout the body, adrenal glands releasing a burst of adrenaline once, twice, mercilessly driving the order - "Live!" into the unwilling body.

The Force smoothed out his burned lungs, jump-started the regeneration process, stimulated the muscles and glands. The patient was left with no chances to die.

After finally stabilizing the condition of his ungrateful disciple, Palpatine leaned back in his chair in satisfaction, not taking his bright yellow eyes from the body laid before him. Gradually the yellow in his iris dimmed, taking on a bluish tinge.

The old Sith was worried that he had missed something. Vader's reaction to the death of his wife was too immediate, too sharp. Too painful. Why? Was there something he didn't know?

Palpatine frowned, deciding to go over his memories one more time.

It had been a long time since he last saw the now dead Queen in person. At that time she was healthy, strong, and stubborn, like a herd of banthas. Palpatine didn't notice anything strange about her then.

Conclusion?

If something did happened, it happened after, when she was out of his sight.

Automatically supporting his willful apprentice's body with the Force, Palpatine relaxed in his chair, dropping into a short meditation. Dry entries from surveillance reports, wiretapping, rumors and facts were lining up before his eyes.

 _Padmé gets unusual busy. Padmé doesn't go out anywhere without bodyguards and a horde of maids. Padmé privately visits a gated medical center that admits only high-profile clients. Padmé is depressed and very nervous, but skillfully hiding it. Padmé meets her husband, the conversation was not recorded._

Skywalker was very excited. Extremely.

What did she say to him?

Medical center... Did she have some kind of health problem?

Judging from everything - no. Anakin did not look depressed or morose. At the time Palpatine noted only a certain carefully concealed happiness, as if his apprentice could not believe in something. Skywalker was in shock and shaken, a strange disbelief and joy even, some great happiness were tearing him apart by the seams. His already almost reverent attitude towards Padmé had undergone a change.

He surrounded her with even greater care, looking after her as much as possible during their infrequent meetings.

What news did he receive?

What made him so unsettled?

Palpatine concentrated, feeling that the mystery was close to unraveling.

 _Padmé gradually reduces the amount of time she appears in public, she gets on a diet specially designed for her_ (which was strange, because she didn't look out of shape as far as the Sith remembered), _she gradually changes her day regimen... And Skywalker is happy and nervous._

What can affect a man like this? What can unsettle him so? Provided that it was not something negative?

Well, well...

Medical center, health problems, untroubled happiness, diet and day regime, Vader's horror upon realizing the death of his wife...

She was **pregnant**.

A child.

His apprentice expected a child.

Palpatine gritted his teeth, reining the Force, rumbling and seething in a black hurricane, back in.

A child!

Vader's child !

His eyes shone with a bright malevolent yellow glow, and a crimson ring, surrounding the iris, has pervaded the whites in red bloody smears.

Stupid brainless boy! Why didn't he say anything?! What was he afraid of?!

The child of the Chosen One! The Sith would have doted on that child, he would have...

Palpatine's fists clenched, the chair he was sitting on slowly began to disintegrate into particles.

When he came to the rescue someone has already taken Padmé away. A couple of hours later he felt her death thanks to the beacon he placed on her some time ago, reporting, whether the silly woman was still alive or dropped dead somewhere.

The Sith banged his fist against the armrest in fury, noting at the edge of awareness how it immediately crumbled into dust. Rising from the collapsing chair, Palpatine paced the room, trying to rein in his raging emotions.

Pregnant!

She was pregnant!

The Emperor turned sharply to his apprentice, imitating a dead fish and, coming closer, cautiously entered his mind, gently and subtly sorting through his memories. Vader, in shock from the consequences to his actions, made it easy, unable to hide his thoughts back under the shields before falling into unconsciousness.

Vivid pictures whirled and flashed before his mind's eye, clearly showing that he was not omnipresent after all and made a huge miscalculation, the results of which were still in the air.

 _"...Ani! I am pregnant..."_

 _"...Can I listen to it?..."_

 _"...I will give birth soon ..."_

 _"...Carefully brushing the precious newly-formed life with the Force and feeling it respond!"_

The unborn child responded to his father's power! Actually responded!

The Sith wanted to howl from realizing the magnitude of that loss. Taking off from the sterile room Palpatine rushed into the training hall and finally let himself go, unleashing all of his pent-up fury.

The walls trembled, the droids, standing on the perimeter, shook, falling on the floor and breaking apart. Dark, malicious Force filled the hall, seething like a mountain stream, violently tearing apart everything it touched. The Sith screamed with rage, clenching his fists, going mad from the inability to change anything.

His mistake. His oversight!

He was the Master.

How could he not notice?!

Droid parts spun in the air, caught up in a whirlwind of the Force. The Sith abruptly brought his hands together, breathing in and out and finally calming down. The Force, rampaging around the room on a spree of chaotic destruction a moment ago, calmed with him, once again turning into a serene ocean.

Nobody ever noticed the monsters inhabiting the deep dark waters of this ocean.

Palpatine rubbed his face with his palms focusing other problems. Recent revelations only provoked more questions. Why did not he feel the child? It was clearly gifted in the Force. Too young? Because of the distance and the fact that the strength of the baby was still mostly asleep? Or maybe only kin could feel that connection? After all, blood ties were very strong and it was almost impossible to break them.

The Emperor walked along the corridor with a pulled down hood, followed by a detachment of Red Guards.

What a loss...

For centuries force users regardless of their affiliation had been facing the problem of finding students. At a first glance the solution seems to be easy. Get married and raise a child, who would follow you from the very first moments of their life. So simple! And so impossible!

No one could guarantee that a child will inherit the gifts of their parent or parents. No one! Children couldn't inherit what makes a force user sensitive to the Force. Why? There was no answer. The Force could wake up in a grandson of a force user or in a great-grandson or never at all! There was only one race, for which it was not a problem - the ancient Sith. Only they could start a family with almost guaranteed results, even if ungifted children were still being born sometimes. Why?

For centuries the best minds struggled with this problem, but nobody ever came close to unraveling the mystery. That was why even now the Sith and the Jedi both needed to search the galaxy, screening through it with a fine sieve, looking for those who possessed even a grain of sensitivity. And considering the fact that it was extremely rare…

The comprehension of the magnitude of loss made the Sith gnash his teeth and walk away from his good for nothing fool of an apprentice, who cut short the life of someone who could have been a worthy Force user, out of sheer stupidity, trivial jealousy and inability to keep his temper in line.

Palpatine locked himself in the office and slumped, staring into space.

Such opportunity - wasted!

A true miracle! And miracles, unfortunately, do not happen twice in a row.

How could his apprentice even for a second believe that he could harm a child, sensitive to the Force? The Sith would have brought him up as his own, patiently honing down the incredible jewel of his gift, raised and cherished him, finally passing all of his knowledge to the child... He was no longer young, after all. Yes, right now he was still at the top of his game, but...

Vader.

Sidious made a fist, mentally mapping out a plan of action. He himself was to blame for not keeping up with his apprentice. Well, now he would know to handle the idiot boy without the gloves, nipping unsavory thoughts and inclinations in the bud and uprooting any sign of weakness without mercy. Skywalker had always been unhinged and needed thorough watch and care.

This time the Sith would not be caught off guard.

* * *

The baby lying in the cradle was screaming with displeasure, waving his little arms around. He felt that something was wrong, but didn't know what. His eyes, which were clearing up more and more into the familial blue color with each passing day, watched the woman trying to calm him down with an angry glare, not paying her attempts any attention whatsoever.

She did not feel like kin, her blood did not respond to his desperate call, which was instead hitting the invisible barrier, cutting off the child from the rest of the galaxy.

The woman cradling him in her arms was kind, gentle and warm; she fed him, rocked and nursed him. She was a good mother.

But Beru had one drawback, that crossed out any and all of her virtues for the baby.

She was not **kin**.

* * *

Bail was holding his daughter, examining everything around her with brown eyes in bewilderment, in his raised hands, showing her to the World and the Court.

"Princess Leia Organa!"

Tired from all this excitement, Leia soon fell asleep, clinging to the broad chest of the man holding her. Viceroy carefully hugged his little treasure closer, silently thanking the Force for giving him this chance. Padmé... how he dreamed to lead her to the altar one day! Had the unapproachable woman gave him a chance, a hint that she won't reject his advances... But instead she chose this... Jedi!

And what did he do? Died like a dog, and drove his wife to the grave as well!

Leia started fussing, reacting to the emotions of her adoptive father, and the man cradled her gently in his arms, calming down. Leia. His little treasure. He missed the chance to win her mother, but it'd be enough for him to call that child his own. He will raise her as befitting of her station, surrounded by love and adoration. She will need nothing.

His daughter.

And if someone tried to hurt her... Well. Let them try.

* * *

Kenobi thoughtfully examined his new place of residence. In terms of comfort the cave fell short of even the filthiest doss houses that the Jedi had the dubious pleasure of staying at during the course of his life. But it was okay. He did not need much, and after some careful work with his hands and the Force it wouldn't be such a bad place to settle down.

It was warm, dry and not far from Lars's. Just what the doctor ordered.

He mustn't let Luke out of sight. A gifted child was a treasure over which the war could easily brake out, especially if someone founded out about his parentage. In spite of the fact that the Order was considered completely destroyed, its scattered remains were still alive and kicking. Many survived the original purging and not all of them rallied around Yoda. Not all of them indeed.

The death of hundreds of Jedi stirred up a lot of ugly things in the survivors, raising the deep hidden fears and doubts to the surface, agitating their minds and souls, like a storm at sea, dragging out everything secret and not accepted by the Order to the surface. Kenobi knew that some had already fallen to the Dark side.

If they found out... Who would refuse such leverage as the son of Darth Vader? After all, unlike ordinary people, the force users knew perfectly well who was responsible for the tragedy in the Temple.

Sidious... Palpatine.

Vader... Skywalker.

That's why he'll stay on this bedraggled planet, shielding Luke from various searching parties.

He was their hope.

 **But only theirs.**


	2. To remember everything

**PART 1. To remember everything**

 **Tatooine.**

 **Four years later.**

He didn't notice anything wrong for a long time.

Of course he heard about cases of conscious rebirth when the soul remembered its previous life, but never thought he'd be unlucky enough to make into their numbers. After all, his level of enlightenment was not even close to that of a saint or a monk from Tibet or even a yogi from India, all of whom were prime candidates for being reborn. He, on the other hand, had a lot of small, but heavy sins, desires and aspirations.

No, he was never a saint. At all.

Everything started with short and strange flashbacks.

And that's what saved him.

* * *

Beru frowned, keeping a close eye on the child, intently poking a screwdriver into some droid parts left over from her husband's attempt to repair another droid, bought on Jawas' sale.

Small blond boy with comically furrowed brows was enthusiastically jabbing his tool right into the torn gut of the "bucket of bolts", sniffing and fidgeting with impatience. Suddenly he froze still like a statue. A tousled head came up; the child gave a puzzled look to the gutted droid, than carefully looked around the room, coming upon the woman.

Beru could have sworn that for a moment panic flashed in his blue, incredibly bright and clear eyes... and in the next instant the boy turned away, returning his attention to odds and pieces, scattered in front of him in a pile of scrap metal.

The woman sighed, silently worrying. These strange fits, as she mentally called them, began about a year ago on her adopted son's birthday. She remembered how the boy stared in admiration at the birthday cake, placed in front of him, clenching his little fists, impatiently waiting for his uncle to finally light the candles.

Owen flicked the lighter. The boy took a deep breath, as if trying to blow out not two, but two thousand and two candles, and then **it** happened for the first time.

The boy's gaze - anticipant and exuberant, was suddenly filled with **awareness**.

As if for a brief second the child was pushed aside and someone much older took a look out from his eyes. Someone different. The stranger blinked, staring at the cake in bewilderment... and then a moment passed like it never happened; the boy blew out the candles and started clapping his hands.

And Beru couldn't subdue her trembling.

After… After, she watched her adopted son all day, searching for anything strange or unusual in order to validate her vague aimless fears, but nothing happened, and she slowly calmed down. Beru didn't say anything to her husband. She didn't have any tangible evidence of anything being wrong and bothering him with an unfounded feeling of apprehension was simply not worth it.

* * *

Flashbacks... it felt like he was asleep, watching a strange science-fiction movie, trying to wake up and failing. The body did not respond to him, and his identity was divided into an "adult-self" and a "child-self." It was a very disturbing feeling, like he was an operator controlling a puppet, or a central computer transmitting the information to a secondary one.

... Or a spectator transported into the movie - the one with special effects and full immersion.

On his second birthday he was able to "wake up" for the first time. Suddenly the dream became reality, even if only for a few moments!

He looked at a small cake with two candles set in front of him, that were about to be kindled by a large chestnut-haired man. His head was buzzing with thousand thoughts, all rushing around and crashing into each other. Who was he? Where was he? What was happening?

It lasted just a couple of moments, but it was enough for him to make a wish and give the body a command. Candles went out and his adult consciousness went out with them, a particularly stubborn thought fading last.

 _Get all of the memories back._ _ **All of them.**_

The next flashback occurred six months later. He was running around outside of the house in the quickly approaching dusk and suddenly found himself thinking – "This is not my world."

It was too different. Too strange. Too alien.

A month later the same thing happened again. And then after another month... and then after a week. The child's consciousness was broadening, expanding its boundaries, absorbing the knowledge gradually beginning to seep through the ever-increasing gaps in the surrounding barrier. He grew, slowly, but steadily outspreading himself in all directions.

The shard of personality, controlling the body until this moment, and the main identity, sleeping for the time being, began to merge, mixing and flowing into each other.

Later, reflecting on his childhood before "waking up", he came to the conclusion that this was what saved him.

Traumatic shock of being born put the block on his main personality and memories leaving only a pure, untainted mind of a newborn, reflected in the Force.

In this he was lucky. At least that's what he thought.

Obi-Wan took him away immediately after birth and stayed close during their journey to Tatooine before giving him to Larses. And that's not even mentioning Yoda and who knows who else - he remembered feeling the echo of other humans' presence nearby. Or, maybe, not humans, but... sentients? Yes, sentients fit the bill better - there were still a lot of things he needed to get used to.

And what would they have done after finding an adult personality in the body of the young Skywalker? It would have been so very easy for beings, capable of reading minds and emotions and mind-tricking.

Would they have been glad?

Would they have listened to his story, drinking from his fountain of wisdom in the form of knowledge of the future, gracious and accepting?

Fortunately, he was not that naive or stupid.

He wasn't sure yet if Revan actually existed here or not, but still had no desire to repeat his story.

Yes, his personality was not the same as it was prior to his awakening in the body of a "New Hope", yes, most of his knowledge was useless in this world, yes, many of his memories were missing or scrambled.

But it was his memories, his personality, and he was not going to give them up! Or let someone erase them in the name of some imaginary greater good.

 **It was his life**.

He was almost completely awake already, feeling horrified and delighted in equal measures after each new "flashback"; just a little more and he would well and truly regain his full self!

A boy, looking up at the dark sky full of unfamiliar constellations and slowly brightening by rising twin-suns, chuckled and rubbed his eyes. The sky was rapidly turning blue - the impossible, crystalline shade of blue, which had never been seen on Earth. The sky on Earth was darker and richer, with only one yellow sun - completely different from those two glorious plasma-white stars.

* * *

Beru frowned, watching little Skywalker chase sand critters around.

"He is a jet fighter, not a child!" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Strange fits stopped, or at least she didn't notice them anymore. The child's oddities bothered her, but something else worried her even more.

Ben, as he now called himself, started appearing nearby more and more often. He did not approach the child, but Beru noticed his silhouette a couple of times in the distance. And it honestly disturbed her. Beru knew about her husband's not so charitable feelings towards the Jedi, and, to be honest, she shared his opinion. Some of Kenobi's habits were... unpleasant.

She looked out the door again, searching for the boy. The unruly child finally caught his elusive prey and was now carefully examining the critter, holding it in a gentle, but firm grip. The lizard was hissing and jerking, trying to escape, but to no avail: the young explorer firmly clamped its clawed feet with his fingers, lifting the lizard up and turning it from side to side.

* * *

Funny, but a full merger happened casually and quietly. His control over the body had been increasing with each passing day and he was recalling more and more memories. Not all of them, of course, but every new thing he remembered, useful or not, pleased him to no end.

Sometimes it was sheer nonsense. He couldn't remember the faces of his parents, but could clearly recall, for example, the ring with rattles rotating over the pram - a present from his father's sister.

Still, he was very lucky. In the four years that have passed since his birth, the cookie jar of his knowledge was topped off with galactic and Hattic languages (the latter of which was entirely Owen's doing – some of his curses were truly ingenious!). He learned to read and write, to disassemble everything that fell into his hands, reassembling it later into something different: more often than not something twitching, jiggling and simply strange; to determine the ambient temperature down to the degree just by looking at the position of twin-suns in the sky; to understand the world around him a little better and even to drive a speeder. Or, at least, he learned which buttons and what pedals to press.

That made his new life much easier.

Examining a bright little lizard squirming in his hands, he suddenly felt like the last puzzle piece finally clicked into place, making the picture of "Luke Skywalker" complete. The child gave an appraising glance at the angrily hissing lizard, and, after taking it in a more comfortable grip, swiftly broke the critter's neck.

"Fresh meat" grinned the boy cynically, looking at the surrounding desert.

The desert was alive. The whispering sands were rolling in and spilling on top of each hill like waves in the sea; it was full of life, even though it seemed impossible: lizards and vomp gerbil, sarlaks and Jawas, Hutts and Krayt Dragons, Tuskens and farmers of all races, smugglers, mercenaries and slaves.

The galaxy's settling pit, a place where no one needed a passport, where you could buy anything and sell even more for the right amount of money. A place where every moment was a struggle for survival, a local capital of crime, a sausage grinder, crunching the lives of the planet's inhabitants down and then spitting out the frayed bones of its victims.

Not a drop of water anywhere, just the desert, rustling and moving and living its own life. Hot and ruthless. Deadly.

His new homeland.

The boy sighed and closed his eyes, raising his face towards the twin stars, shining down upon him.

"Light... constant searing light, heat, desert... just not enough sulfur. I wonder," he muttered, lazily dangling lizard's carcass in his hand, "what exactly Amidala thought, giving me that name? Luke. Or is it Luc, which derives from the Latin Lux - "light"? Light..." The child smiled a mean little smile, gazing into the distance. "Light. Luc. Full form of the name would be - Lucifer. The Lightbringer... a very appropriate name, given my background. A Hero, a New Hope, and so on. I wonder if everything is the same as in the saga? It looks like it so far, but there was so little known about this time period. Hmm, not enough data."

He took a couple of steps, ignoring the hot sand and the incredible heat surrounding him.

"And this damn heat... I never wanted to live in Sahara."

Beru emerged from the house, calling him in.

"Luke! Go home, dinner is ready!"

The boy sighed and shouted back.

"Coming, aunt Beru!"

With a dismissive shake of his head he turned away from the endless sands, quietly muttering to himself:

"Welcome to Hell, Lucifer."

* * *

Tall black figure thundered down the halls of the Star Destroyer in a rapid stride. It was not very hard to divine Lord Vader's mood. The door cut off the external noise, and Lord Vader burst into his chambers like a hurricane, fists clenched, growling softly. Something was always sending him into a rage, setting off his temper over and over again. There was always _something_.

Concentrating, he took a few deep breaths, calming his raging emotions. Control. He needed to be in full control of himself. Master would not like it if he flied off the handle again. And he surely will, if those Hutt's damned throwbacks would not stop driving him mad with their incompetence!

Bolting off to the training hall, Vader started hacking his way through the droids at full speed, turning their bodies into scrap metal. His lightsaber was buzzing furiously, mirroring its master in temper, destroying everything that stood in their way. Sparks flew in all directions, his black silhouette darting around the hall like a blurring shadow - faster that light.

Control!

Full control!

If his Master found out that he lost control again (and he surely will!), Vader would be in a big trouble. Again.

A horrible memory of the last time he angered his Master flashed before his eyes and instantly sobered him better than ice waterfalls from Ziost ever could. Shuddering, the Sith nervously looked around and breathed out a sigh of relief after finding nothing suspicious around. Just silence. Peace and quiet... and droid fragments, dotting the floor of the great hall.

* * *

He had a hard time coming to consciousness that time.

Master, thought, was always somewhere close. Whenever he opened his eyes, a small and frail compared to him figure of the Emperor was always nearby. Quiet and silent.

Clearly, committing suicide did not work.

Master was calm like a mountain lake, on the bank of which he once upon a time liked taking walks with Padmé, looking at him with clear and somehow gentle gaze, under which Anakin felt like how he imagined a gerbil-vomp would feel before the Krayt Dragon. A variety of different doctors, surrounded by aides and droids, were keeping watch over him, working in shifts, shooting him up with something unfamiliar under the Palpatine's approving look, constantly taking some kind of samples and analyzes, conducting research, arguing themselves hoarse, excitedly discussing something with Master, who turned out to be perfectly versed in medicine.

Constant pain, always present somewhere on the border of awareness, was gradually disappearing, fading. Wounds were regenerating with an incredible for any other ordinary being speed, nutrients were being administered directly into his veins in a constant stream. Master was also doing something with the Force, accelerating the healing process and from time to time boring a hole in his apprentice with a glare, filled with strange anticipation.

It made Vader nervous.

What a bittersweet irony, that he, the one who practically died not long ago by being burned alive, who dreamed of escaping into oblivion, could fear the affectionate smile of an elderly man with gentle eyes the most.

Time went by; thick crusts of the charred flesh have fallen off, exposing a new, young skin, sensitive to the slightest movement of air and the lightest touch. As it turned out, it was impossible to restore his hair - Anakin burned for too long, the temperature of the lava, licking his skin off, was too high, despite his attempt to surround himself with a cocoon of Force. It saved his life, but it didn't save the layer of the epidermis, which contained hair follicles and nerve endings.

He had to say good-bye forever to his lush honey-colored mane of hair, which he was secretly proud of and planning to grow longer in imitation of Qui-Gon Jinn.

His eyes were glazed over. Once bright-blue, they became washed-out gray-blue with splashes of yellow, which, combined with darkened whites, looked nightmarish. His eye sockets were sunken and bruised and his left cheekbone was permanently marred with a rough scar with embers that no one could remove sealed into the flash around it.

The new skin was terribly white, unnatural and lifeless, leaving no trace of golden tan that stayed with him from Tatooine.

Looking at himself at the mirror and seeing the remains of former beauty and strength turned into a parody of itself was unpleasant to say the least.

There was another problem. Prostheses.

The normal ones couldn't channel the Force well enough. And so he had to develop prostheses specifically for him and the suit to boot... Normal air provoked an asthma attack, his burned lungs and trachea refused to work entirely, so a respirator became a necessity, and the mask protected his watery eyes from even the dim light.

He was staring in the mirror, looking for Anakin Skywalker and not finding him. There was only Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, a monster of unknown species, clad in armor. He had to relearn how to walk, move, breathe, eat and even sleep all over again.

Sidious looked especially gentle and sympathetic on the day his condition finally stabilized. Which was a bad sign. A heavy sense of foreboding settled over him, but Vader couldn't get anything more specific from the Force, not with his level of skill. He still had a lot to learn from his Master.

He was standing on one knee with head bend low, afraid to look the Emperor in his yellow eyes.

"Tell me, Darth Vader." Palpatine connected the tips of his fingers with each other, sitting back on his throne. Dark heavy clothes enveloped his body, leaving only the head and narrow hands with thin aristocratic fingers visible. The older Sith always dressed with care, eagerly showing off his exuberant wardrobe of a highborn Naboo, famous due to their centuries-old traditions and upbringing. Even now he was wearing gorgeous attire, made of heavy velvet, flowing from him in soft waves. "Tell me, was I a bad master? A necessary evil not to be trusted? Have I taught you nothing?"

Yellow eyes carefully examined the kneeling man, head bowed and attentively listening to his every word.

"It seems to me that way. Otherwise, why would you try to... run away?"

Sidious slid off from the throne, smoothly stepping towards his apprentice, which made the latter break in cold sweet. Manicured hand lifted his head by the chin in a graceful movement, strong fingers holding firm, allowing the Emperor to peer at him intently through the mask.

"You know, Darth Vader, I think I made a few mistakes in all of this as well. I was too lenient with you, almost like a Jedi." The Emperor spat out the last word hatefully, still holding his apprentice in his grip. "You're used to doing whatever you want, you're used to thinking little of your Master and you thought you would be allowed to behave the same way after becoming a Sith. Isn't that right, dear apprentice?"

Vader was silent, fearing that any response would just provoke Palpatine, who looked like he was finally out of patience.

"You've made several mistakes. You lied to your master. And you lost control." The temperature in the room sharply dropped, cold seeping through the armor, reaching the heart. "And, worst of all, you decided to run away from responsibility."

Sidious sneered, forcing his apprentice to quietly shudder in anticipation of his punishment. And there would be a punishment, of that he had no doubt.

"You really shouldn't have" said the Sith, stretching his lips into a satisfied smile. "You made your bed - be ready to lie in it."

Force Lightning broke away from his fingers, crackling through the air in a short flight, making the kneeling figure arch up and grind his teeth in an effort to keep the scream, tearing from his throat, inside.

Force Lightning alternated with edificatory instructions, pitching him into unconsciousness and then pulling him out of the darkness into the harsh reality. All the while Sidious was calmly and steadily spelling out what makes a good apprentice, lamenting the fact that he unfortunately got a defective one, but it was okay, he will tear up all the naughty inclinations out of Vader's mind by the roots.

"Remember, apprentice" the hem of the heavy velvet gown touched the hand in a leather glove, helplessly clawing at the floor. "Control. This is what differentiates a **Master** from a **half-animal filth** , that lost himself, succumbed to the call of the Dark side. Only control will help you to survive."

He carefully examined Vader, lying prone on the floor, not even having the strength to stand up.

"The lesson is over for today. You can go."

Smirking, Sidious walked off from the hall, being instantly surrounded by a detachment of Red Guard. Vader tried to scrape himself from the stone surface, but his arm gave way and he fell, quietly moaning in anguish, waiting for the sharp pain to pass. It took a long time before he could get up and hobble to his room on unsteady legs.

* * *

Bail was smiling, quietly entering into his daughter's chambers in order to surprise her. In his hands was a gift for her and he was already anticipating her joy after getting it.

Over the years he accepted the girl as his own child for good. Yes, they were not blood relatives, so what? He raised her, she was his daughter, and he was her father. Their gamble was a complete success. It never occurred to anyone, that the child, presented as an Heir, could be adopted.

The courtiers were shocked, and not so much by the child suddenly appearing out of nowhere, but by the fact that they have somehow missed all the signs of pregnancy. The existence of an **Heiress** instantly changed the distribution of all political forces. New alliances were formed and old agreements terminated overnight in order to have an impact on who will be included in the inner circle of the princess, which was only beginning to form.

There were a lot of scheming and backroom deals and passions raging in those, who were trying to get a piece of the pie for themselves. Security was running off step, sifting through rumor after rumor. Bail frowned for a moment, but once again took his expression under control. The Heiress' gender became the cause of many shifts in the amorphous mass, made up of courtier sycophants.

The fight for the right to present the girl their male offsprings of different ages had already began. There had been several assassination attempts, blackmail and many other problems, unpleasant but familiar for every politician worth their salt. Perhaps, it was time to allocate additional funding for Security Service and guard force.

He had to take everything into account.

The man walked into the room and the joyous smile instantly slipped from his face, replaced with a frozen mask. Leia was sitting on the floor, running her little fingers over the scattered dolls, and her favorite toy - a plush butterfly - was flying around her, quite authentically waving its wings. The nurse droid turned her head towards him and spread her hands in an almost human gesture of confusion.

Here it was, the very moment they were waiting for in horror, hoping it would never come.

Leia inherited the talents of her father after all...

Bail breathed in and out, quickly taking control of his turbulent emotions. He needed to calm down - Leia was extremely sensitive and could easily read his feelings.

"Dad!"

The girl jumped up, running to her father. Bail caught her, throwing her up in the air. The forgotten toy fell on the floor.

"My princess! My little beauty!"

Bail hugged Leia closer, kissing her flushed cheeks and pondering how to manage the situation. Leia looked down at him with a troubled frown on her face.

"Dad?"

"Everything is all right, Princess, but we need to talk. This is very important, do you understand?"

The girl nodded, immediately setting her mind on a serious discussion. Bail smiled in satisfaction. Whatever you say, but the blood mattered. Of course it was unfortunate that she inherited sensitivity to the Force from Skywalker; however, it was her only flaw. Leia was a true daughter of Amidala, who was elected as a Queen by the age short of fourteen. She possessed amazing instincts and talents that needed only the right training.

Leia was already showing excellent results, she was being taught by the best of the best, same as he and his queen were once taught. They would find the solution to this new problem as soon as possible. Which meant that he needed to have a serious talk with his daughter first and then get in contact with some people.

"Leia. What I'm going to tell you now is extremely important. Not only our world's prosperity, but also our lives depend on it: yours and ours. Our lives are now in your hands."

The girl clenched her fists, listening to her father very carefully. The thought of her parents' lives being in danger made her extra attentive.

"I am very glad that you have manifested some unusual abilities." Bail smiled at her, carefully guiding the conversation towards the intended topic. "But nobody should know about them. Can you tell me why?"

The little girl thought about it for a few long minutes. She started her education at the age of two and now was the time to apply all the knowledge she was taught in a real situation. *

"Not everyone has such abilities" started Leia, looking at his father. Bail nodded, encouraging her. "So, if I demonstrated them accidentally or intentionally in front of strangers, they could be seen and used against you and me. And it will be... dangerous?" She looked questioningly at her father. Bail clapped his hands a few times to congratulate her on arriving to the right conclusion right away.

"My clever girl! Yes, dear, that's right - it will be dangerous. You see, I do not know the details, but there is evidence that the usage of such Gift can be detected from distance. Children with special abilities are hunted by the government agencies under the Emperor. We don't know what they do with them for sure, but a couple of years ago a lot of Gifted were simply killed." The girl turned pale after realizing the danger. "Therefore, I beg you, honey, do not use your Gift no matter how you'd want to. Okay? I made inquiries and contacted some people that could help us. Soon they will arrive and we will have a talk with them. Any decisions will be made only after familiarizing ourselves with all available information. Deal?"

Leia nodded, smiling weakly, and Bail decided to change the subject. He already impressed everything he intended upon his daughter, now he just needed to fix the result.

"Well done! And now, my princess, as a reward for showing such a good judgment, you'll get a present!"

Leia gasped with delight, rushing to open the package, and Bail tiredly closed his eyes. Fifteen minutes later a short message would be sent to a variety of recipients.

* * *

It's funny, how they say that a man is a creature that could get used to anything. Luke couldn't argue with that. Due to his memories being restored almost completely he knew what normal living conditions looked like, but it didn't make his new surroundings less familiar, only calling forth nostalgic sighs and sad thoughts from time to time.

Desert. The world in which he now lived was a one continuous desert with mountains towering somewhere on the horizon and rare oases, sand everywhere, incessant heat and an almost complete absence of anything even resembling water. Twin-suns, Tatoo 1 and Tatoo 2 burned out everything superfluous from the surface of the planet, forcing its inhabitants to adapt to the hard living conditions.

All living things were hiding in the sands, digging holes and caves in the mountains and canyons in order to escape from the melting heat. Sentients were no exception. One of his most vivid memories was a trip with his uncle to Anchorhead, located not far from their farm. After no more than half an hour spend on the speeder, even taking into account that Owen was not in fact Anakin Skywalker and drove with a reasonable speed, and they arrived in the city.

Luke was looking around completely stunned and disoriented. Anchorhead was similar to their farm, just multiplied by gemmation: only a scattering of roofs could be seen above the surface with actual buildings buried underground in order to help people living there escape from the heat of the day and the cold of the night. Controversial climate of Tatooine dictated its own terms on how to construct buildings: houses did not grow up; they grew down and had thick, solid walls.

But this was not what shocked Luke the most.

Inhabitants.

Humans, twi'leks, zabrak, some strange humanoids, droids of all types, shapes and sizes... So many different species, races, shapes and forms everywhere. Multiple languages. No animals, thought, stray or domestic, a familiar part of any urban landscape on Earth. Pets were very expensive here. They needed to be fed and watered and cared for, and all of it required money. Being able to afford a pet was a sign of prestige. No one would throw a capital investment out into the streets to die, because that's what would be the pet's fate. This dangerous world was difficult to survive in for sentients, let alone pets. Luke saw a pet once and was even graciously allowed to hold it in his arms - it was the happiest moment in his whole life at the time.

A friend of Uncle Owen that suddenly became rich through some not quite honest work (the norm for Tatooine) decided to make a gift to his loved ones and, to put it bluntly, to show off. So he bought a filinks.

It was an ordinary house cat with the most common gray coloring. But to Luke it looked like the most beautiful, most precious and coveted creature in the galaxy. While the adults talked, Skywalker's greedy gaze devoured the young animal quietly sitting on the mat. His hands itched to seize the cat, to squeeze it, to cuddle it thoroughly, to make it purr... Owen just looked at him askance, but said nothing. The owner didn't notice anything amiss at all, deep in conversation.

The desire to cuddle the kitty was irresistible, and after a long moment Luke finally decided to act upon it.

Once when Aunt Beru was very busy, he got into her room and took a good look at himself in a large, full-length mirror with an excellent overview. He wanted to see what his new body looked like.

To put it simply - he was an angel. Light whitish hair, gradually turning into an almost bone-white color as the result of harsh sunlight, neat and straight, but something told him that soon it would begin to curl. Round and childish face, but it was evident that soon enough he would have high cheekbones and stubborn dimpled chin. Straight nose, golden tanned skin and incredibly bright, almost neon-blue eyes. He only ever saw people with such vivid eyes on TV once or twice before and had never come across someone like that in person.

He turned sideways, mentally adding angel wings to his visage, and grinned. His innocent face immediately changed, becoming predatory and mischievous.

Still, his outward appearance was beautiful.

Luke sighed, catching himself having uncharacteristic for his past life thoughts. In the past his appearance didn't really matter to him. He was not very handsome, but still good-looking enough for people not to be frightened and for women not to turn away from him, and that was the extent of his care. Now he considered his appearance in terms of potential it held for manipulation. What would people see, when they looked at him? What did he need to do to create the right impression?

Luke stepped closer to the mirror and tried to smile shyly. The result - the innocent look of the naive blue eyes, embarrassed smile and dimples in his cheeks - exceeded all expectations. Perfect. His lips stretched wider and his appearance instantly changed - he looked like some malevolent little monster. So. So he should probably avoid smiling like that yet.

And now his angelic looks would play right into his hands. Cautiously coming closer, he raised his eyes with his best impression of shy embarrassment on his face, looking at his uncle's friend with undisguised hope.

"May I touch your pet, sir? Please?"

The man melted right away, feeling as some kind of all-powerful whish master, and emphatically nodded after a few seconds of contemplation.

"Of course you may! Just be careful!"

"I will be!" Luke assured him hotly, reaching out towards the unsuspecting filinks with his greedy hands. In the next moment the kitten was seized, pinned to Luke's chest and mercilessly scratched between the ears and under the chin. Filinks started purring, and Luke broke into a happy smile, stroking the soft fur.

After holding the animal for a few blissful minutes, he carefully lowered it on the carpet, literally tearing himself away from it.

"Thank you, sir!"

"What a well-mannered child!" marveled the man, looking approvingly at Owen. The latter nodded slightly, taking undeserved compliment, and went back to the conversation.

Luke turned away from the adults, looking at the cat with longing. The kitten purred quietly, lying on the soft carpet. He wanted to continue the acquaintance - but couldn't. He shouldn't spoil the impression, especially a newly created one.

* * *

Four and a half years... was it a lot or not? Who knows. He learned a lot during the six months that have passed since the full merger. There was enough time for self-reflection, in spite of the influence a child's body exerted on his psyche, the environment and overall quality of life, as well as the inevitable shock of realizing what exactly was happening.

His memory came back, but not in full, although do people really remember their entire lives down to the second? No. He retained only what could benefit him: social skills and personal skills and knowledge. For example, he knew how to waltz, tango and rumba, had a vague feeling that he liked ballroom and Latin American dancing once. Was it his hobby, maybe?

At the same time he could remember weapons. Firearms and cold steel. Firearms he remembered in general terms and in connection to his youth, consisting of vague images of drills, forced marches and shooting practices as a part of a group. An army, probably. Paying the debt to his country by serving it. He liked firearms, but not enough to become a fan.

But bladed weapons were another thing entirely. Knives, swords, daggers and stilettos, big, small and medium-sized, standard and unusual, all shapes and sizes. His passion, which he hid from everyone for years and years, because at that time in that country bladed weapons have been prohibited. But he still loved them. And after, when the world around him changed dramatically and a great union fell apart, it was still dangerous. On the other hand, there were a lot more opportunities, that were previously closed to him. He was able to gather a small collection, taken a special interest in small knives and daggers that could be hidden inside the sleeves and even made by hand.

He learned to work with a variety of materials: metal, wood, bone and stone. In his favorite movie the characters in pursuit of each other made different weapons from materials on hand**. He learned to do the same or even better! He was not a master-craftsman, but still skilled and knowledgeable enough.

The list of what he knew and what skills he possessed after remembering everything was long indeed. He could prepare a meal, starting with stripping the carcass of an animal or bird; to survive in the city and the wilderness; to connect with his surroundings, to find common ground with new people; he had some skills in engineering - enough to disassemble or repair something; a whole layer of his memory was occupied by different details from books and movies; a separate group held his knowledge of this universe he suddenly woke up in.

But he didn't remember anything personal about himself. Neither the name nor when he was born, where he lived and died. Only some vague feelings - he was in his late thirties, a bachelor with a job, generating a good income. He was not a rich man and certainly not a millionaire, but earned enough for a living.

Actually, he reminded himself of a large puzzle with several thousand pieces. It was spread on the floor and then mixed with another - smaller one, consisting only of a few hundred pieces. After that some original pieces were thrown out and the rest was used to make a picture. It came out strange and wrong. Unusual, new and unique.

It changed him. He was never so calculating, so... cruel?

 _To remember everything._ When he realized what exactly he remembered, he wanted to laugh, to cry, to howl at the moon and maybe to kill someone with special cruelty. He did not remember his past self entirely, but could recall more clearly and precisely than ever before how he merged with a little star, screaming for help, into a single entity, how the Darkness was ripping him apart, while he was trying to tear a piece of it for himself in order to survive. He remembered his first cry and a quiet whisper of his mother, holding him in her arms for the first and last time.

Amidala lived for maybe another half an hour after giving birth at most.

Obi-Wan moved away for a few minutes to find cradles for the twins and to give droids some last orders, and a fragile, barely alive woman cradled them closer with her weak hands. Something strange was happening to her, contradictory desires tearing her body and psyche apart: the drive to protect children and survive on one hand and a complete despair and unwillingness to live on the other.

Her energy was fading, making the twins cry.

She whispered something feverishly to him in what probably was some kind of Naboo dialect. He remembered everything to the last word, though, even not understanding the meaning. And he remembered the strange smile she had, after giving him a name. Something slipped in her voice, something malevolent, anticipating, vindictive...

To Leia she gave a very different smile - kind and gentle. Leia ... "antelope" in Greek. But there were probably no Greeks in this universe. Which meant that his sister's name had some different meaning.

He changed a lot. Version 2.0 with improvements and additions, a prototype assembled from two opposite origins. In his previous life he was more of a humanitarian. Not a cubicle drone - he liked hunting, sports, guns and a good knife fight. But the merger with the seed of Luke Skywalker's personality has brought him a great affinity with technology - a real, deep understanding of it. It was stunning.

A boy, a child easily assembling and disassembling not just the simplest mechanisms, but droids! Droids! And they even work afterwards! Considering the fact that no one had taught him anything, just shown some tools and a couple of times he watched his uncle's attempts to repair different pieces of machinery... If this were talents, inherited from his father, Anakin Skywalker, they were something to behold.

And what's more, he wanted to run, fly, chase something, jump around - all the time. He was full of energy to an extent of not knowing what to do with it. His character also changed greatly. Apparently what little Darkness he managed to nab and digest when fighting for his very existence didn't just disappear. Most likely, it served as a catalyst, peeling everything superficial from his upbringing and stripping the rust of moral norms, exposing his truest essence in all its glory.

Pride.

What did he feel, knowing that he came from the union of a Chosen One, who had been born as a result of Dark Lord Plagueis the Wise experimenting with the Force, only to become the Dark Lord himself later in life, and an heiress of the ancient family from Naboo, that had been holding unto their power for centuries, patiently cultivating their strengths and eliminating their weaknesses through a clear and consistent selection process? Vicious pride. After all, Amidala was truly a great queen!

Leading her whole sector, protecting the planet, successfully fighting against her enemies, breaking their plans and cutting off their influence - and all of it at fourteen. Smart, steady, charismatic, a strategist and a tactician both - she had fine qualifications on all counts! And, at the same time, the incredible arrogance that caused her a lot of trouble. Even though she was not Gifted in the sense intended by people of this universe, her abilities for logical thinking and analysis were in no way inferior to the foresight of Jedi and Sith.

Luke knew that something was very wrong with Amidala's death. His certainty was based on memories and feelings from before and after his birth. But he would have to sort this problem out later, after getting some kind access to holonet, the local equivalent of the Internet. He certainly had time.

In the meantime, he needed to deal with some alarming changes in his nature. Arrogance, intolerance towards the opinions of others, fits of cruelty, cynicism and rage, wild jealousy, justifying his new name ***, even exaggerated sense of possessiveness, lust for power and a feeling of patronizing nepotism in relation to his not-gifted family, which was not a bad trait in itself, the burning desire to go forward no matter what - all of it needed to be dealt with and rigorously controlled in order to avoid Falling and the following collapse of all his plans.

Not to mention the frenzied energy, powering a never-ending thirst for activity, and a horrible information hunger in addition to feelings of suspicion, fear and budding hatred for those who tore him from his father.

There, in the most sacred depths of his being, was emptiness. Scraps of thin, barely there threads that should have connected him to his parents, were floundering around, trying to find them. And failing - again and again. And that made him want to howl, to tear these threads out himself, to find what he lost.

It was a terrible feeling that he had never experienced before in his past life. And Luke had a strong suspicion that he knew exactly whom to thank for this new fascinating experience.

He saw him a couple of times, or, rather, caught his brown-robed silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Ben Kenobi. Uncle seriously didn't like him and even expressly forbidden Luke from talking to him. Luke never tried; he understood perfectly well that this man was dangerous. Especially now, after he awoke his memories. And that was another problem - he did not want anyone to rewrite his personality to fit some imagine Jedi standard. This meant sifting through all of the newly acquired knowledge with a fine comb. He should have had a whole library, dedicated to various mystical abilities and different methods to control them somewhere in his memories. In the past he had been reading these kinds of books for fun, wiping away tears of laughter after some of the particularly fascinating scenarios and descriptions, but now he hoped that information, gleaned from them, would help him learn how to protect his mind.

The boy slowly walking toward the house caught another glimpse of a dark silhouette. His lips curled into a vicious smile.

"Kenobi... you just wait, I will shake everything about my mother's death and father's almost death out of you in time. And then I will decide your fate. Yours and all others who silently agreed with Yoda to tear me away from my only family."

Luke stopped, throwing a dark look in Kenobi's general direction, quoting the words of his namesake.

"Hell is too small for the two of us." ****

* * *

A/N: * If anyone thinks that this situation (child-analyst) is unrealistic, then you are deeply mistaken. Child's learning speed at this age is amazing and far exceeds that of an adult. There are no stupid kids; there are only parents who do not concern themselves with their children's upbringing. In the canon, for example, Amidala was already leading a government of the whole planet, and then the sector at 14. As can be understood, it was not an isolated case, but the result of an appropriate education almost from the moment of birth. And it was completely _natural_ in her world.

For the skeptics: check out a world history, we have plenty of examples of the same. It is only now that most children remain infantile for such a long time.

** Refers to the movie "The Hunted" with Tommy Lee Jones and Benicio Del Toro. Heroes there demonstrate some magnificent knife fighting and how to build different weapons from what's at hand.

*** Lucifer rebelled because of jealousy.

**** "Prophecy 2" with Christopher Walken.


	3. Feel the Force, Luke

**PART 2. Feel the Force, Luke**

At one time young Anakin Skywalker thought there could be nothing worse than being Watto's slave. That nothing could ever compare. Experience had shown the depth of his error.

Slavery. Being a _thing_ , that can be bought-sold-broken-thrown-away, whether the _thing_ in question liked it or not. The chip, tracking your location and turning you into a gibbering twitching mess with horrible pain when you try to do something that goes against the rules embedded in the control mechanism. Freedom - enticing, but unreachable.

Slavery... He bought himself out when he was ten. Ten years in personal hell. After… After, he thought he landed in heaven, euphoric and dizzy from the newly founded freedom, but no, it was more like purgatory.

Then he met his Angel, small, fragile, but so very strong, and it signified the beginning of the short but sweet stay in paradise. He wanted it to last forever.

Alas, all good things tend to quickly come to an end and this period of his life was no exception. He flung his personal paradise aside himself, falling into darkness.

And now, after years of freedom, he was back in his own hell, but there was no one to lend him a helping hand anymore. His Angel would never look at him with a tender smile and her mighty guardian would never nod at him encouragingly again. He could buy himself out a second time, but what would he do with freedom?

He was in hell, and hell was within him.

* * *

Luke was pacing around his room, thinking. The house was quiet – his uncle and aunt left for the town to shop for necessities and locked him inside. Alone.

However, he was actually glad for the opportunity to think in peace and quiet.

It was time to seriously consider his future.

Soon he'd turn five. He already spent five years in this new world. Five years, four of which were lost to him.

As far as he could remember from the original story, the life of a naive farmer Luke Skywalker would've made a sharp turn approximately thirteen or fourteen years into the future. Fourteen years. It was a lot. But, then again, maybe not, especially considering the fact that most of that time the protagonist would have been sitting on Tatooine twiddling his thumbs, after which the Jedi would have kick-started the glorious, righteous war between a farm boy and the forces of darkness and evil.

Lucifer, and this was how he perceived himself now, was emphatically not happy with that scenario. He didn't like the canonic story at all - it was silly, naive, pathetic and far-fetched. To think that the boy who only just learned that he was sensitive to the Force and started making first tentative attempts to understand and utilize his talent could somehow fight against a warrior with much more experience in using the Force, as well as the seasoned schemer that had been effortlessly keeping not the stupidest representatives of different intelligent species on a string for years and years... What a joke!

"Another hero without fear, or brains for that matter, miraculously vanishing all of his enemies at one fell swoop. But, fortunately or unfortunately, life is not a fairy tale." Luke was pacing back and forth, making a clear trail in the smooth stone floor, thinking aloud. He needed to organize his knowledge about all of the events that have already happened and that had yet to happen. "What do we have? Everything started with Plagueis. The Sith Lord decided to play God during one of his experiments, determined to create nothing more and nothing less than sentient life. And why not? His inflated pride didn't allow for anything less ambitious. The experiment, held with the direct participation of Sidious - or Palpatine, as he later started calling himself, was successful, creating the Chosen One. But only if the original story, overly complicated and contradictory, is not lying. Then Chosen One was found by the Jedi and brought to Coruscant under the bright eyes of Darth Sidious."

Luke absently wondered if Anakin could be considered a descendant of two Dark Lords if Sidious really helped Plagueis. A child born of a threesome, indeed. Shmi would have been stunned speechless by this, if she knew. Or maybe not – nobody ever said that slavery was kind, and who knew what had she seen or participated in during her life as a slave?

The boy collapsed into a chair, still musing aloud.

"And so, Sidious met his... hmm, let's say son. And left him at the Temple. He turned out to be a busy parent, still doing his duty when possible. Then the Chosen One grew up and gotten married. I wonder, was Palpatine aware of it? Original story says he wasn't. Or was he? And what about in this world? Ah, the answer is probably the same. Otherwise I would not be spinning wheels on this dusty planet under Kenobi's strict supervision."

Kenobi... What a character. A Knight, a Master, that easily escaped from the clones, trying to stuff him full of bullets, set his own padawan's wife up, then dunked the aforementioned padawan into lava as a gesture of mercy and stole his children. And then made no attempt to teach these children anything at all. Why? It was foolish and unreasonable to hope that Vader's long withered paternal instincts would suddenly surge up and overcome nearly twenty years of fighting, blood, hatred and conditioning under Palpatine.

This meant that something was not right here. A talented man can transform into a genius only through hard work. All of these sudden power-ups from worst to first only looked good on screen, in movies for young audience. The original Luke Skywalker, on the other hand, learned things and progressed very, very quickly. Exactly how long did he spend learning how to use the Force? One month with Kenobi and another one with Yoda. Something wasn't adding up. Did they emulate the "Matrix", simply pumping his brain full of knowledge and bypassing the conscious mind altogether so as not to waste time with any training? If it was true than they did him a great disservice – theoretically knowing how to do something was not the same as having actual skills. When it came to the Force theory was worthless without practice - daily, constant and rigorous. Original Luke simply didn't have the necessary experience. In that light it was not surprising that Vader showed his son what's what, chopping him up to pieces. Maybe the Sith wanted to clone him, after affirming the unfortunate unusability of the original sample?

Then there was that strange moment, when Luke Skywalker acknowledged Vader as his father - not Anakin Skywalker, but specifically Vader. And after a visit to Dagobah and meeting Yoda things changed again and he started dividing Anakin and Vader, intending to drag the latter back into the Light come hell or high water. Which was, of course, idiotic, but significant. After the fall of the Empire there was a short period of general euphoria, and then a new war started again – first with the First Order, then with Yuuzhan Vong and Krayt Empire... And all the while his family had been killing each other. Over and over again. And everyone thought it was perfectly normal!

After glancing at the chronometer, the boy stood up and made his way to the kitchen to find something to eat. Because of his regular hunting trips the refrigerator was always stocked up with meat. That lizard had been the first but not the last animal to make it into his plate. Beru was just glad for the opportunity to save some money and Owen casted a sidelong look at him once or twice at the beginning, but in the end decided not to say anything, while Luke himself was busy developing his hunter skills to catch more desert dwelling critters.

Skywalker quickly reheated the stewed meat left to him by Beru and proceeded to gobble it up with a healthy appetite of a young boy, still mentally looking for more clues in his memory.

Alas, the knowledge he had about this world was not as vast as he would have wanted. He watched the movies once, some random facts were etched into his memory due to an accidentally encountered article or two on Star Wars universe, but that was all. Not to mention the interesting _form_ all of this knowledge was organized in his memory.

At first he did not even understand what it was and what to call it, but then... After realizing the hysterical irony of this whole situation Luke just cracked up and started cackling like a hyena, burying his face in a pillow to muffle his laughter so as not to wake anyone up in a middle of the night. He hadn't been able to calm down for a long time, breaking into fits of childish giggling over and over again.

All of his knowledge from the past life took the form of **visions**.

It was at this very moment Lucifer started to believe that Force clearly had a sense of humor, and an extremely peculiar one at that. No one would be able to prove that he was not the original inhabitant of this body anymore or inquire about the extent of his knowledge.

In his mind it all looked like a huge cloud of broken fragments, images and sensations, mixed up in a strange cocktail, flavored with a pinch of unreality and a huge dose of uncertainty. His visions of the future appeared to be just that - visions, allowing a lot of room for variety of assumptions and leaving no way to actually verify them.

This was what the movies he watched a long time ago were transformed into.

And now he was sitting back in his room and scratching his head, painfully trying to fish out some solid facts from the murky ocean of his memories in an attempt to make at least a halfway decent plan of action. The horror of the situation was compounded by the fact that he had never been a huge fan of the Star Wars universe. Yes, he watched the movies and even liked them. So what? He didn't spend any significant amount of time digging up additional information or searching for explanations for some situations, just read a couple of articles after stumbling upon them in the web, and then promptly forgot about them.

Therefore, any plans he could make based on his incomplete knowledge of canonic storyline were going to be worthless. Nevertheless, he needed at least _something_ to start from.

"Why is everything so confusing?"

Lucifer ruffled his hair, absently staring through space. The room he was sitting in was small, but comfortable and, most importantly, belonged only to Luke. Aunt Beru had long ago stopped entering it without his permission, which was just as well. Yes, cleaning up any mess he made was solely his responsibility, so what? A simple cleaning droid - a flat thick disk the size of a large plate, rolling over the floor - perfectly solved the problem of accumulating dust or any sand drifting from the outside, and even took care of some little rubbish. Anything bigger he could remove himself or at least push into a corner until better times.

Or let it lie in the center of the room for him to stumble over. His room had a bare stone floor with only a small rug made from rough, thick strands of unknown origin beside the bed, a table and a chair, some shelves and a closet. The walls were bare.

Very ascetic. Perfect for a Jedi - with nothing extra inside. And almost nothing personal - just several toys and a set of tools.

It was his territory, where no one was allowed to enter without his gracious permission.

Lucifer didn't miss the changes in his character. There was something almost animalistic in him now. Take, for example, the room he claimed as his territory, protecting and jealously guarding it like some kind of large predator. There were a lot of new bewildering little oddities and strange unconscious reactions in his behavior that were sometimes wierding even him out.

It was no wonder that uncle and aunt sometimes gave him funny looks as if he was some kind of dangerous creature from outer space, poorly disguised as an ordinary human child - he looked right, but his behavioral responses did not met the stated appearance.

Walking into the kitchen for a second time this evening and furtively looking around, even thought his relatives were not expected to arrive home for a couple more hours, Lucifer resolutely reached into the cupboard for caf beans. Nobody in this household wanted to allow him to even try it, saying he was too young and too hyperactive already to drink the beverage with stimulating effect.

 _Better to drink herbal tea, Luke, it's good for you_.

After carefully sniffing the contents of a can, Lucifer almost instantly fell into the most amiable mood. Caf smelled like coffee. A good coffee even, Arabica maybe or Robusta. Ah, this fragrance - how he missed it!

"Mmmm..." Large dried fruitlets about the size of cherries were beckoning and enticing him with their familiar smell. Recalling how his aunt brewed them Lucifer dropped a single fruit in the cup, pouring the boiling water in and leaving it alone for a few minutes to stew. He'd add a sweetener later after having a taste. "Okay, what's next? Ah, yes! Anakin became Darth Vader, slowly going absolutely mad aboard his "Devastator" and then the "Executor". ...Or was it the same ship? No, no, there were two of them. Meanwhile Palpatine also goes off the rails, completely intoxicated by his own power, and then Luke Skywalker pops up out of nowhere, the white knight of blind justice, inflicting hopefulness, brightness and goodness on every unsuspecting passer-by within the touch distance together with Leia. Some people said that Darth Vader had two sons - one was born a daughter and the other was Luke." Chuckling a little, the boy breathed in the aroma emanating from the beverage and after judging it ready took a careful sip.

Yessss, it was real coffee!

Not as strong as Robusta, softer than Arabica, but still very good! Adding a generous amount of sweetener, Lucifer returned to his room and sat down on a chair, feeling for the moment completely satisfied with his lot in life.

"What else? There were some really strange moments in the movies, starting with Alderaan, or, more precisely, with its destruction. And what the hell was that, anyway?! If you actually destroy a planet so much stuff will start going wrong it's not even funny! Where were the abnormalities in the star system, where were the shrapnel fragments flying apart and turning the Star Destroyer into a pile of scrap metal? Where were the magnetic fields, gravitational disturbances and so on? All of it was just completely unrealistic! I'm not an expert, of course, but even I can recognize bullshit when I see it. I would sooner believe that Vader had somehow screwed with people's minds in general and with Leia's chicken brain in particular, making them believe this nonsense. Then heroes did some running around and all of it culminated in a glorious one-man show with Kenobi - underhanded and tricky bugger - in the lead role, who even his own death managed to turn into an advantage, leaving a few very nasty surprises in his wake. I can respect him for that. To brainwash Luke so thoroughly that he became an ordinary Sith of the "complete fanatic" variety - 'there are two opinions, one is wrong and the other is mine' was his philosophy! He killed a ton of people and not even blinked! Who was he then, if not a Sith? The empty-headed boy never even asked Kenobi where he got Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber from, if the latter was supposed to have been killed by Vader. Lifted it from his still warm body? Or was it handed over to him after an inspiring speech of a hero on a deathbed: 'And now I'm dying...'? * What an utter rubbish. Then the story picked up with Bespin, the Death Star Number Two, getting all of their collective asses kicked big time (which was completely unsurprising, by the way!), hysterical cries for help and said help arriving from Vader, who finally accepted that his son turned out to be a full and complete imbecile. Every Skywalker must do three things in their life: to blow up a station, to lose a hand and to upend the galaxy, all of which Luke actually accomplished. As for Vader and the Emperor... Everything was just like in a fairy tale: they lived happily ever after and died on the same day."

...This caf was amazing.

Having enjoyed not so much the drink itself, as the faint echoes of positive memories associated with the aroma of coffee, Lucifer put his emptied cup in the sound cleaner (realities of a desert planet where no one would waste precious water on things like dishwashing or, for that matter, any other king of washing), and returned to his musings.

"What else? Nothing good. Skywalker's padawans doing whatever the hell they wanted, then Vong invaders also doing whatever they wanted and killing people left, right and center, and then... then... something with Luke and Leia's descendants. Boys and girls Falling to the Dark Side again and again, killing each other... What a family! The Borgias family traditions pale in comparison and that's just sad."

Lucifer sighed. Such a future for his family was frankly unacceptable. First to lose a hand, then - a father, who chopped the aforementioned hand off. …Suddenly he came upon a thought that made him sit upright.

The Force. Why did he forget about the Force? Why had he not started using his abilities already? Or maybe he had, but only unconsciously? Yes, he never lifted any objects in the air, nor did he ever speed himself up when running or had any visions, but...

"Come to think of it..." The child's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Come to think of it, I had actually been using the Force! I can't read other people's thoughts, but I can feel their emotions. I always seem to know how other people feel about me and how I need to adjust my image or behavior exactly in order for them to see me in a more favorable light! Just like that time with the cat - the owner was so pleased with me he even gave me some delicious candies for the road. What else? Hunting - I can feel where my potential dinner is hiding. The heat - I completely stopped paying attention to it. I remember perfectly well how unhappy I was about being constantly hot. And then, after three and a half years it just - stopped. Not immediately, of course, but still! I even walked barefoot on the sand a few times and didn't get burnt. Then there is my immunity to poisoning - I stayed completely healthy, when my aunt and uncle fell ill after the whole family indulged in some poor-quality nger."

Luke sprang to his feet, feeling more and more excited.

"What else... My sixth sense. I often have these gut feelings, warning me of approaching trouble. Not always, but often enough. The energy. I don't remember the last time I've been exhausted in this life, or even really tired, and even for a young child that's not normal, is it? And most importantly, how am I working with all of this completely unfamiliar, super-complex technology? It's totally beyond my comprehension, I've never had much talent in this field before, that's for sure, but now... How the hell could I know what went wrong and how to fix it? I had been successfully fixing our moisture traps, after all, and did it better than Owen. I may not know what every detail or a piece of equipment is called, but I somehow **understand** the processes going on inside! What is this? Intuitive use of the Force? For crying out loud... And let's not forget that time I took a speeder for a joy ride and how uncle had to pry my fingers off from the handle-bar by force, swearing in Huttic under his breath all the while."

 _Feel the force, Luke!_ indeed. Was it really that simple?

The boy, agitatedly pacing around the room, stilled.

"My God, it really is..."

* * *

Breha was watching her foster daughter run around in the garden with a smile on her face. Almost a year had passed without any incidents since their last emergency, when her husband, somber and pale, rushed inside their shared suite with troubling news.

The girl's genes made themselves known. Thankfully, it did not happen in public - then it would have been much more difficult to hide her nature. Breha easily got the girl talking, professionally pulling all the details of the incident out of her. As it turned out, the nurse showed her an album with butterflies and then the princess watched an educational movie about them. All of it left something of an impression.

The girl just wanted her toy, a plush multi-colored butterfly with iridescent wings, to fly like in that video. She just. _Wanted_.

That was it.

And the butterfly flew.

Luckily, it was her husband who caught a sight of it first.

A specialist, summoned by the pair, took his time listening to the pair's anxious ranting, and then took even longer time carefully watching Leia play with a strange glint in his eyes. What he said later had been forever etched in Bail and Breha's memory.

"Your daughter is sensitive to the Force. It is incredibly rare, and very dangerous in the current political climate. You know what happened to the Jedi, don't you?" Their guest took a sip of wine and paused, gathering his thoughts. The man had already been paid a very generous sum for his advice and his silence both, so he didn't see any reason to sugar-coat what he had to say. "Force sensitivity is an incredible gift that can be used consciously or unconsciously, or it can be blocked. As for the latter - cutting your daughter from the Force completely... I don't know how it had been done by the Sith or the Jedi, and I honestly don't want to know. That kind of knowledge is simply too dangerous, and Force-users never liked outsiders sticking their noses into their affairs. But as for partially blocking your daughter's connection to the Force... There were some rumors circulating around about drugs that could do it for a fixed period of time. But now all of it is under the supervision of ISB, so I don't recommend making any inquiries. I have access to somebody, who deals with substances capable to dampen the Force sensitivity. Not to cut the connection completely, but… more often than not it's enough. You don't want your daughter to start training how to use it, do you?" suddenly snapped the man.

Breha's answer was sharp and hard and immediate. "No."

"Good. You see, the problem is that right now your daughter is using her gift unconsciously. What does it translate into? Increased learning ability, a well-developed intuition, reading the emotional states of everyone in the vicinity, logical approach to any problem - it's all very well and generally not very noticeable. But once she really starts learning..." the man shook his head "She would light up like a beacon, sending something akin to a signal into the universe, the source of which could be easily pinpointed by anyone who has the same gift. As for what will happen after, well, no one knows for sure, but there are some very unpleasant rumors, not to mentions the Inquisitors, who were tasked with searching for more Force-users."

"So what do we do?"

"You have few options. She's still young, easy to influence. You have to drive it home, that she absolutely cannot use her gift. No levitating things around or doing anything unusual or not normal at all. Then there are blockers. They can dampen her sensitivity. But keep in mind, that I don't know what effect these drugs would have on a child, how long they can be used or what are the side effects."

The couple exchanged glances, filled with determination and unwavering conviction that the decision they were about to make was the right one.

"How do you know all of this?"

"My brother was a Force-user."

"Was?"

"Yes. He... **was**."

Their conversation lasted for a long time. Finally, the man departed, and soon after the couple received a parcel, brim full of ampoules with a clear liquid inside. A week later Leia drank her juice with a neutral flavored additive, getting her first doze of "vaccination".

Now everything was going be fine.

"Leia, honey! Come here! Want more juice?"

"Of course!"

Breha handed her daughter the glass, smiling contentedly. Everything was going to be just **fine**.

* * *

Lucifer spent the rest of the day in a strange state. After realizing that he actually had been using the Force, the boy just zoned out. It was one thing to see some kind of magic happening on the screen, and quite another - to be the source of it yourself in reality.

He had been either hiding in his room, lying on the bed, or nervously pacing the room from one wall to another, freezing in place in a middle of a step from time to time. A million thoughts were furiously spinning in his head, taking his mind into a dizzying and convoluted journey to nowhere.

 _Could it be_ _ **that simple**_ _?_

 _Could it really?_

"So, what do I know about superpowers? Disappointingly little. But! Every explanation on how to use them has one common point. Faith."

Faith could move mountains.

It did not allow for doubts or rushing or hopefulness. Only an absolute faith in user's strength and capabilities. Only a total unshakable conviction that everything would happen exactly as intended, full stop.

And what did it mean for his situation? It meant that he needed to try. Or what was Yoda liked to preach to Luke? _Do or do not, there is no try_. Where to begin?

Luke contemplatively looked about the room, stopping at the sight of his favorite toy - a small fighter aircraft, painted in black and silver. He was ready to start experimenting, when a sudden thought slammed into his head like a hammer, making all of his sweet visions of power crumble to dust and forcing him face the harsh reality instead.

"Uh-oh, I noticed not the elephant at all! "

The problem hiding in the periphery of his memory popped up before him like a highway robber, instantly calling up more buddies for the party.

"Damn..." Luke whispered, clutching his hair. "How could I forget? How?"

Collapsing on the bed, he stared blankly at the ceiling.

"And what do I do now?"

The good endeavor died not with a bang, but with a whimper. In his excitement Luke forgot one very important thing: the use of the Force was a signal to every other Force-user, a fire in the night, beckoning all the surrounding predators with its brilliant light. And there were quite a few of them around. Kenobi, for example, was just next door. Then there were the remnants of the Order. Yoda, sitting on Dagobah and waiting for who knew what, and Vader and Palpatine as the cherry on the top. These were only those whom he knew about.

And how many Force-users were there in the universe that he didn't know anything about?

If, or rather when, he started training, all these sentients would start making plans for him. Kenobi, thought, would undoubtedly be the first to come running - Ben, hovering within easy reach, had already become a familiar part of the landscape.

Luke had long since suspected that it was not accidental, and he had only one guess about the reason that could have motivated the Jedi. As far as he remembered, a person or an object could be hidden in the Force, and this was the most likely reason Ben stayed so close to him.

There was also the matter of his instinctive and violent dislike towards the Jedi, the persistent feeling that he torn away something precious from Luke, precious and irreplaceable.

Something must have happened for him to have such a reaction!

A stray memory of how uncle Owen tried to shoo Ben away when the latter attempted to approach closer flickered inside his mind. He was maybe two years old at that time and couldn't understand what was happening, but the memory still stuck with him: uncle shouting something angrily at the unfamiliar man in robes, looking ready to bite his head off. Which reminded Luke...

"That's right!" Luke exclaimed, furrowing his brows. "Kenobi has Anakin's lightsaber. And do I need it? Ha! Weird question! Of course, I need it! The original Luke received it as an adult, if I remember everything correctly. However, Ben attempted to give it to him much earlier, when he was still a child. Which means what exactly? Do I try to make contact? Probably. Otherwise, I will have to try to sneak into Ben's cave when he's not there, and that's just not a good idea, presenting several difficulties, the first of which is watching and waiting for Ben to leave. And it's foolish to think that no one will notice my amateurish attempts at stalking. I don't want to get my ass kicked by aunt and uncle. They won't touch me with a finger, of course, but there will be a long screaming match and an even longer lecture. This is not the time to alienate them, it's enough that uncle looks at me like I'm a bomb just waiting to go off sometimes. There is admittedly no love lost between us. However he at least doesn't actively dislike me, and I'm perfectly satisfied by that. And I really don't want our relationship to sour any further, considering how much I do already to maintain it, what with repairing moisture traps and helping Beru around the house. I still have to live here, after all. Therefore, since Mohammed could not be brought to the mountain, the mountain will just have to buckle up and hobble to Mohammed instead".

Adjusting the pillow, the boy continued his soul-searching.

"Kenobi... Ah, to hell with him. Vader is much more important. Everything would depend on how daddy feels about his son, including the abovementioned son's life. He alone can protect me from all the others, including the Emperor. Therefore, it is imperative to somehow establish contact with him. But how to do it?"

Something ached in him at the thought of his father and Luke automatically rubbed his chest, driving off the wave of longing for something lost and currently unattainable with a reflexive habit.

Vader...

The Commander's personality required careful analysis. Contacting him without any preparations or plans would be like trying to defuse a bomb without having any previous experience in mine cleaning - incredibly dangerous, potentially fatal and probably fruitless. It may explode or it may not, but former scenario was much more probable than latter.

What did he know about Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader, as a person? Not so much, really, but also not so little. He had a very strong personality. Charismatic, strong-willed, very talented in military arts, heavily inclined towards dictatorship and conformity like any military man, harsh and progressively more cruel over the years, reaching the highest level of brutality at the time of his death. Incredibly strong in the Force and possessing an excellent control over it. Capable of using a wide variety of different weapons. Could drive anything that moves. Wildly possessive over anything that fell into the range of his interests. Would defend what or who he considered to be his to the last drop of blood regardless of any objections from the object of his protection. The overall characteristic could be finished with the words: "Nasty personality. Single".

Now there was still a good chance to reach him. It had only been five years since the death of his family at his own hands. Memories were still fresh in him, as well as the guilt and regret. Probably. There was no time to waste - the longer Luke waited, the more a man would give way to a cyborg, cold and soulless. A cyborg would not be interested in the opinions of the son, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, he wouldn't even see him as a person! If Luke waited too long, Vader would simply use him for his own purposes, not taking any of Luke's beliefs in account. And why would he, being a father and a second person in the empire, accustomed to unconditional obedience? He'd simply place Luke before a fait accompli and give him a kick in the right direction, if the boy started to tarry or protest. Luke remembered perfectly well that in the original story Vader sawed his son's hand off with ease and didn't express any regret about the maiming later.

So - he didn't have any other choice, than to force their confrontation as soon as possible.

Funny, but Lucifer suddenly found himself having very interesting thoughts. He really saw Vader as his father. Not Anakin Skywalker, a stupid impulsive boy and a promising young Padawan, but Vader. The Dark Lord of the Sith, the Supreme Commander, a sadist and a charming, but nasty piece of work.

In fact, he was extremely proud of him.

Luke's attitude towards his uncle and aunt was very different, almost patronizing, like they were his property - his to own, to care and to provide for. Maybe that was why original Luke took their deaths so badly?

Lucifer shrugged indifferently, resolutely getting all unnecessary thoughts out of his mind and focusing on a question much more important for his immediate future.

To be or not to be?

The more he thought about it, the more he leaned towards the first option - "to be."

A slammed door and the sound of footsteps startled Luke from his self-reflection, instantly redirecting his thoughts in a different direction. Uncle and aunt had returned from their shopping trip. Beru certainly brought something yummy for him. Sweets! Candy!

With no convenient 24/7 stores nearby and somewhat meager rations he turned into a sugar hound. Oh, they weren't starving, there was meat and vegetables and sometimes even fruits and berries - imported, because growing them in a desert was an exercise in frustration, but sweets were... rare. He drank herbal broth with something resembling sugar, honey sometimes appeared on the table, Beru baked pies and, occasionally, cakes, but it was not enough.

Child's body wanted sweets. Sweets, candy, cookies, marshmallows, nougat, baklava... Anything, really. He was ready to munch on halvah, even thought he absolutely couldn't stand it before!

Luke immediately took off from his room, appearing in the kitchen and instantly focusing on the shopping bags Beru was unpacking.

"Hello, aunt Beru! Hello, uncle Owen!" Luke rattled off, not taking his eyes from the bags. "Did you..."

"Yes, yes, I bought you sweets, have patience, Luke!"

After five minutes of jigging up and down in excitement Luke finally received a packet with small candies, smelling of different berries and fruits. Groaning with delight, he put one in his mouth and narrowed his eyes with pleasure, feeling the sugar hit his system.

What was he thinking about? The Force? Vader? Kenobi? To hell with them all!

Candies were what really mattered!

* * *

Kenobi pensively stared at the darkening sky as the twin-suns were slowly diving below the horizon. The Jedi Master was restless. He had been sensing some kind of impending danger for some time now. It was small at first, gradually becoming bigger and bigger.

He had been meditating a lot, trying to glean the shape of this danger or at least for whom it was intended, but everything was in vain. It had already been a year since the first warning bell from the Force and he was still no closer to unraveling that puzzle.

Kenobi smiled, catching the distant movement in the corner of his eye.

Luke.

It seemed that the bright-eyed boy got ready to go somewhere again, most likely on a hunt. At this thought the smile on his face faded, replaced with a frown. He wasn't able to get closer to the boy - Owen kept a careful eye on his foster son, preventing Kenobi from trying to speak to him, but to the Force that distance was not critical. So Kenobi knew exactly how Luke hunted.

The boy simply sensed the life hiding from his prying eyes.

The very fact of using the Force in such a way was already alarming and fascinating both. No one ever taught him how to use his gift, but that didn't stop Luke from doing it, even if unconsciously.

Kenobi had the luck to watch the kid hunt the desert skers once. Skers were the small copies of Krayt Dragon of elbow length, very fast, excellent at hiding and able to crawl through almost any crack. On that day Luke rushed out of the house, nervous and agitated to the point of being unable to settle down without wearing himself out first. Suddenly he halted, frozen still for a long moment, and then the blonde head turned sharply to the stone stripe. All of the child's behavior abruptly changed in the blink of an eye. He became composed, quiet and... dangerous. After a few steps, Luke cautiously leaned down, carefully examining something. One sudden and quick movement - and a relatively large lizard was helplessly twisting in the hard cage, made from soft little fingers of a child.

The boy carefully studied it for some time, turning it from side to side, and then... And then he calmly twisted the lizard's neck off. Kenobi got very little sleep that night. It felt like it was little Anakin standing there and staring at him with his hard blue eyes instead of Luke. The practiced ease with which the child killed his prey grated upon Kenobi. Something was just wrong with this picture, even taking into account the harsh realities of living on a desert planet.

The sense of approaching danger still hadn't left him. Instead it was growing stronger with each day, plaguing his thoughts and driving him to distraction.

A blonde head flashed between the rocks and the Jedi finally made a decision.

Today.

Today he would attempt to speak with the child. He must try! The fate of the galaxy and the triumph of the Light depended on it. Today...

There was a reason he took out Anakin's lightsaber just this morning and stared at it for a long time, involuntarily stroking the smooth handle with his fingers. He realized that he automatically fastened it to his belt only a couple of hours later, sitting on top of a cliff.

It was the will of the Force, then. Good. He never made a habit of going against Its will.

Finding the child with his gaze, Kenobi sighed and took the first step.

* * *

The candies were fantastic. Sweet, fragrant, with lots of different flavors. Luke put the bag in his pocket, unable to part with his treasure, and rushed outside for the evening hunt. He had to have some fresh air and it was never too late to replenish stocks.

Kenobi's silhouette was looming on top of the cliff - as always. Just sitting there, silently watching him. But then the Jedi suddenly stood up and started moving in his direction.

Luke frowned, but quickly threw all of the unnecessary thoughts out of his head. There was a whole nest of skers under the stones, which was rare. The young hunter tensed, unthinkingly wrapping the thinnest Force veil around himself and hiding his presence from prey. Soon the first little snout curiously peeked out from the den.

* * *

When Kenobi reached him, Luke had already finished with his hunt, adding the last lizard carcass to the pile. Hearing the steps, he turned around, staring warily at the man slowly approaching him.

Kenobi looked similar to how he was portrayed in the movie. He was tall, but not too tall - at least one eighty for sure, which was what Luke noted first, had brown close-cropped hair and gray-blue eyes. He was very sturdy and clearly well developed in terms of musculature, though it was cleverly disguised by the Jedi cloak. But what really singled him out was how he moved - with incredible grace and elegance in every movement.

Once a long time ago Luke read somewhere that actual, genuine masters moved like predators. And now Luke understood just how true that comparison was. No matter how hard Kenobi tried to disguise himself as an ordinary man, his movements would betray him – they were too smooth, too elegant, too predatory.

They were the result of a very long and very hard training - constant tedious training day by day without any breaks, teaching the body how to move and making every reaction instinctive. In spite of everything the man standing before him was a true Master.

No wonder Kenobi was able to stop his padawan, who killed Dooku by that time already. And Count Serenno was considered the best!

After silently staring at the Jedi for a few long moments, Luke finally decided to greet him. Politely even.

"Hello Mr. Kenobi, sir."

"Hello, boy. Hello, Luke."

"You know my name?"

"Of course" smiled the man, looking at the boy with a strange look in his eyes.

* * *

The boy had blond hair, bleached almost white by the twin suns, pale honey-colored skin and bright blue eyes, glowing with the obvious intelligence. Obi-Wan almost called him a very different name, but stopped himself in time. The past and the present collided, threatening to crush him under their combined weight, making his heart skip a beat and his breathing seize up.

They looked so very alike.

Any moment now he would hear his old Master's cheerful laughter, rising in gentle greeting…

The child was still looking at him, clearly puzzled and slowly starting to wonder what was taking the man so long. After another moment he skeptically raised his whitish eyebrows, probably recalling Owen's warnings. Pulling himself together, Kenobi threw all the untimely thoughts out of his head, focusing on the task at hand - how to hand Luke his father's lightsaber. He needed to quickly catch the child's interest while his relatives were otherwise occupied and there was nothing to distract them.

"I knew your father."

The boy's eyes flashed with interest and suspicion both. He drew himself up, wary and watchful, making Kenobi distantly aware of the emotional tide surging from him in the Force.

"Really?" asked the child with a clearly perceptible doubt. Kenobi nearly groaned at how similar the boy's behavior was to that of his father, not to mention their physical similarities - they had the same blue eyes full of skeptical scrutiny, the same pose and, apparently, the same character. The boy even had the same posture - tense and ready to fight or flight at any moment.

Okay.

So he was Anakin's small copy, and not only in appearance. Which meant...

"Yes. I knew him from the time when Anakin was ten" Kenobi slowly stroked his neat beard.

He mustn't lie. Not even a little! The boy would feel it and then he'd never trust anything he says anymore.

Luke meanwhile stared at Kenobi, internally dissecting his appearance. The man did not look wild or unkempt like can be reasonably expected from a recluse hermit living alone in a desert.

His clothing was clean and whole without a trace of any mending, just a little worn. And if he was able to afford upgrading his wardrobe, the Jedi obviously had some serious money, because the desert "ate" everything it touched, fabric in particular, in a matter of months. He had loose pants, neatly fitted into the knee-high boots. Jedi robes, made of some rough, thick material with some clearly unusual qualities, with a folded deep hood and wide sleeves. The robes were long and spacious and could probably be used as a blanket or an all-weather raincoat. Under the robes he was wearing the same wrap shirt as Luke.

The fashion on Tatooine, in the opinion of a traveler from another world, was very exotic, consisting of a mixture of Japanese national clothes with Bedouin garbs sprinkled with medieval European fashion.

Loose pants. Boots that were often made of cloth. Tunics of different lengths. Floor-length dresses with long sleeves. Cloaks, like those medieval knights used to wear. Stoles, wraps and burnouses in various forms. Yukata-like shirts a little below the belt in length, or at least no lower than up to mid-thigh.

For example, Luke himself was wearing that kind of shirt in addition to pants and cloth boots with leather soles with special windings, keeping the fabric in place.

"Your father was a Jedi. A Jedi Knight. He travelled from world to world, maintaining the peace."

The child shifted from one foot to another in interest, but didn't allow himself to become so engrossed in the story as to stop paying attention to his surroundings.

"Really?"

"Really. I have something for you. This belonged to your father. Anakin Skywalker." Kenobi unhooked a long, thin cylinder, widened at one end, from his magnetic belt: "This is a lightsaber. A Jedi Knight's weapon."

The boy stared at the unfamiliar gadget, trying to understand what it was.

Kenobi confidently pressed the button and the beam of blue light shot up from the end of the cylinder, filling the air with a strange buzz.

"Oooooh..."

The child's eyes devoured the displayed weapon, his hands twitching greedily, clenching in fists and forcing Luke to press them to his chest to avoid just going for the lightsaber with abandon. Obi-Wan had nearly been blown away with a wave of admiration and incredible joy, radiating from the boy, hastily putting up a shield to protect himself from foreign emotions.

Luke meanwhile was ready to scream in joy, jump around like a lunatic in throes of ecstasy, yell at the top of his throat and otherwise express his delight as violently and loudly as possible. He was even ready to kiss Kenobi right in his ugly bearded mug.

A lightsaber!

The living dream of everyone who ever watched the epic saga that infected the Earth population with dreams about the stars. In that world he could only dream of making something vaguely resembling it using flashlights and plastic, or buy a ready-made model dummy in a shop, and then hum under his breath, imagining himself being a Jedi or a Sith.

Now Kenobi was offering him a real actual dream embodied in metal.

"Can I?!" breathed out the boy, not taking his eyes from the buzzing lightsaber. Obi-Wan grinned in his beard.

"Of course. This is for you. Look here, this button turns it on and off. The blade is made up of plasma; it's very hot, so never touch it with your hands. You know what plasma is, right?" The child nodded, not looking up from the bright blade. "Excellent. Your father would have liked for you to have it. But I'll give his lightsaber to you only on one condition." Luke raised his head, calmly regarding Kenobi with a searching look. "It will be your secret. No one must know that you have it. Do you understand?"

"Why?" Luke questioned him warily.

"Because the Jedi Order had been wiped out, killed off, much like your father."

"What do you mean?" Luke shifted from foot to foot, wondering if Kenobi would tell him the same thing he told the hero in original story.

The Jedi did not disappoint. Assuming a sorrowful face, he took the saber and handed it to the boy with the words "Knight Anakin Skywalker was killed by a Sith named Darth Vader. Dark Lord of the Sith..."

Something flickered through the boy's eyes, a shadow of a behemoth that rose from the depth for one moment and instantly plunged back into the darkness, not even breaking a surface. Luke nodded and took the saber.

The weapon was designed for the adult and looked more like a staff in the small hands of a child. Kenobi watched as the boy standing in front of him gently stroked the smooth, polished handle with his fingers, adjusting to the weight and the feel of the weapon, and then finally pressed the button.

Luke's eyes were burning in the approaching dusk as brightly as the plasma blade of the saber. After spending a few long moments admiring the blade, the boy flicked it off, carefully looked around for anyone watching them, and then tucked the deactivated saber in his belt, interrupting Kenobi, who already opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly lofty and pompous.

"Don't worry, I'll hide it."

Luke spent some time silently tying the lizard carcasses up to make them easier to carry. Obi-Wan was silent too, analyzing the emotions radiating from the child. There was joy, happiness and sadness, imbued with strands of something like anger, but not quite.

Shouldering his quarry, Luke carefully hid the metal saber-handle inside his jacket, straightened his shirt so that the bulge wouldn't be noticeable and then stilled completely, staring somewhere into the distance. Finally, he turned to the Jedi, looking him in the eye.

"So who was it you were saying that killed my father?"

Suddenly Obi-Wan had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that maybe he shouldn't have given Anakin's lightsaber away. Maybe he shouldn't have arranged this meeting at all.

"Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith."

"Darth Vader. I see." Luke nodded. "I'll not forget it."

Kenobi watched the small figure running across the sand towards the house visible in the distance and felt a sense of danger that tormented him for almost a year growing even more.

"I wonder if I made a mistake today..." muttered the Knight to himself, anxiously watching the child brag about his successful hunting to Beru.

Suddenly the Jedi heard a comm signal. He frowned - this number was known only to a select few and none of them were in the habit of making calls or sending messages if it wasn't an emergency.

He took a look at the device and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Shaak Ti?"

* * *

Having pushed his kill into the pantry, Luke hurriedly raced to his room in order to hide his treasure before someone noticed it. This meeting with Kenobi also gave him a lot to think about.

Ben's answer to his last question irked him the most. He was really a skillful manipulator that could flip the truth around with just a few words. If Luke didn't already know what had actually happened, he would have believed the man. The worst thing was that he hadn't felt the man outright lying not even once. Kenobi was not lying, but he was also not telling the whole truth. Jedi's words left a strange lingering aftertaste within him, like from a poisoned candy. You won't notice the poison, but you'd surely feel the effects later. When it started killing you.

"I'll not forget it, Kenobi. That I promise you."

* * *

* The final quote from a Chinese thriller the author watched once about twenty years ago. It made an incredible impression on her. The villain, whom the hero made a total mincemeat out of and who received about ten fatal wounds, spent ten minutes of the movie time (this is not a joke, it really was that long) monologuing about the reasons he became the villain and how he totally didn't regret it at all. Only after saying this phrase the villain finally kicked the bucket.


	4. Hello, Universe! It's me

**PART 3. Hello, Universe! It's me.**

The sound of heavy, thundering footsteps was growing louder and louder, making everyone nearby shrink their heads into their shoulders, cast their eyes down and fervently dream of turning invisible.

A wave of simmering panic and cold fear was rolling in front of Vader, flooding the corridors and rooms, silently creeping into the hearts of men like treacherous mists of Yavin to make a nest there and never ever leave its host again.

"Executor" was permeated with fear. Every millimeter of plating, the bulkheads, interiors, engines, every molecule of the ship was saturated with an underlying dread. Of course, ninety-five percent of the crew had never met the Commander in person. But all of them heard the rumors, originating from those who were not so fortunate – tongues had a tendency to loosen in bars and cantinas, especially after one too many a nerve-wracking experience.

Commander was a terrible legend that unexpectedly gained flesh to the great regret of the enemies of the Empire and many nervous breakdowns of the allies and subordinates. As the officers staffed on "Executor" joked to each other sometimes, all of them were long due to a huge raise in a "hardship pay". Sadly, the ship was known for one of the highest expenditures of various sedatives, as well as their closest substitute – hard liquor, which was always in stock in bars and personal stashes.

Vader knew about this, of course, but turned a blind eye on the different ways his officers liked to distress themselves on the condition that he won't ever have to see the results or deal with inebriated bodies falling out of their cabins right at his feet. He understood the concept of necessary sacrifices and that it was unreasonable to constantly keep his people on tenterhooks; they tended to "break" from that kind of treatment.

Having rushed up to the bridge like a human-shaped black tornado, the Dark Lord stopped in his tracks before a huge panoramic window. The view of the stars was soothing to his overwrought nerves, which were rendered into tatters by his Master.

The Emperor once again taught him a lesson. A cruel and vitally important lesson. As always.

Sharply exhaling and making the aide standing at hand flinch nervously, Vader closed his eyes, gaining control of himself. He hated that word - control, the meaning of which Sidious persistently tried to hammer into him again and again with the help of some not very humane methods.

* * *

Vader, kneeling on one knee, obediently bowed his head, feeling the dark vortex of the Force soundlessly moving around him. Scarlet robes, standing out sharply in a dark room, signified the presence of Emperor's Red Guards.

The Emperor himself was attired in a customary luxurious outfit, specifically tailored in the style of the Sith, which was the kind of irony only few understood.

"Lord Vader. I see you do not fully understand what exactly I demand from you."

The gown was rustling; soft footsteps of dainty feet, shod in half boots made from the finest leather embroidered with gold thread, were getting closer; huge red diamonds encased in rings of rare black iron were sparkling on slim fingers. That was another little joke only for those "in the know". A long time ago ancient Sith forged their swords from this metal - the same swords, that rivaled and even surpassed Jedi's lightsabers.

In this setting the Emperor's scarlet and black layered garments with a few splashes of gold made him to be something out of nightmares, a silhouette wholly shrouded in blood and darkness.

"Well then. I guess in your case it would be appropriate to hold a demonstration." The Emperor whirled and walked out of the room, being instantly surrounded by the Red Guards. Vader walked a step behind his left shoulder, as expected from a dutiful apprentice. They stopped before the observation window. "These are the Inquisitors. Can you guess what they are needed for?"

Vader nodded. It was not that hard to understand. They were a rag-tag group of Darksiders, disorderly and uncontrolled, ready to tear apart anything and anyone their Master's finger pointed at - in other words rabid watchdogs that understood only simple commands.

Palpatine nodded; his apprentice's thoughts regarding the possible usefulness of this newly created unit were not a secret for him.

"And do you know why they are the way they are?"

Vader frowned, eyeing the sorry excuses of Sith training on the ground below him appraisingly.

Three dozen sentients were heatedly thrashing each other with lightsabers, shouting in excitement - there was no other way to describe the unbelievable mess unfolding before his eyes. Vader remembered how they were taught in the temple: large, spacious rooms, carefully selected groups of students, mentors, vigilantly watching them train, peace and quiet...

So very different from this rampaging pandemonium of Dark energy, filling the hall.

The sorry excuses of Sith, meanwhile, started going wild, not noticing two figures, observing them from the balcony. Unsurprisingly the training exercise soon turned into a fight. Humans, Twi'leks and Zabraks, psyched up beyond any reason, were throwing themselves at each other with cries of rage, out of their minds with blood thirst.

Instructors overseeing this group immediately began bringing the fighters to their senses with liberal use of electro shockers, but the scuffle was not without consequences: when the floor was finally clear of all the semiconscious bodies there were a few corpses left.

"So, what do you think, Darth Vader?" Palpatine asked, benevolently eyeing the bloody floor.

"They're animals…"

"Animals," agreed the Emperor, hiding his hands inside the wide sleeves. "But useful animals. They will bite on command. And after they stop being useful…"

"You'll get rid of them," finished Vader. Sidious nodded still maintaining a pleasant expression on his face - apparently, the scene below had been somewhat amusing to him.

"Of course, I will. And why?"

Vader carefully examined the crowd of recovered trainees, already snapping at instructors, their thirst for violence hanging thick in the air...

"They're slowly loosing even what little reason they do have" started Anakin slowly. Palpatine nodded encouragingly. "In a rush to attack they're forgetting about everything, including their surroundings and what is happening around them..." The latter part was the hardest for Vader to say out loud - the ugly picture he was painting reminded him a little too much of himself.

Sidious looked at him sharply.

"That's right, my apprentice. Dark Side is very simple in some ways, being powered by rage, anger and any negative emotion that we experience throughout our life. It is easy to succumb to. On one hand that can be good, especially when the student needs to "taste" the Darkness. However, herein lays a great danger and a trap for the faint of heart. Yield to the call once, do it twice… The Dark side does not require any repudiations or restrictions and neophytes tend to lose themselves in it. It's so very easy, after all, to do nothing but indulge in your own desires." Palpatine made a sweeping gesture towards the training hall, directing Vader's attention to a group of Darksiders once again starting to fall into a mindless fighting frenzy one after another. "So very, very easy. Only few understand that it leads to a complete personal degradation. All mental processes of that kind of Force user are reduced to simple reactions: eat, sleep, fuck, kill, enjoy your prey's fear..."

"Animal instincts..." rasped Vader, subdued. Sidious nodded.

"Exactly. Animal instincts. And a sentient being would always outmatch the animal. The instincts are important, but it is equally important not to give in to them. Master has power over his desires and passions; he feels them without yielding to their influence. This is the only way for a Force user to make any real progress without turning into this-" corners of his lips twitched in a disgusted grimace. In the hall below mayhem was picking up momentum again "-animals."

* * *

Luke couldn't sleep. His relatives were peacefully dreaming, while the boy was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind spinning like crazy.

The lightsaber was lying beside him - Luke absolutely couldn't tear himself away from it. The metal was warm and pleasant to the touch and the saber itself somehow felt near and dear, like an old heirloom, that was with you for many years, always at hand, comforting and homey.

It was probably the crystal seated somewhere inside the saber influencing him, but Luke was understandably wary of trying to disassemble the weapon to find it. Firstly, he did not know how to do it safely. Secondly, even if he succeeded, he may not be able to put it back together correctly. Besides, as far as Luke understood from vague visions floating in his memory, the lightsaber should be assembled with Force, and when it came to the direct usage of the Force Luke was, unfortunately, very lost.

He didn't want to admit that he was sulking. Talking with Kenobi brought up out in the open all the doubts Luke had successfully been sweeping aside these last few days.

To be or not to be?

The choice he needed to make would influence his whole life; not only just his future happiness, but whether he would even be alive to enjoy it. He was nearly five - a small boy, fragile and vulnerable. Whoever sad that childhood was a happy time? Nothing depends on you, but you depend on everyone.

Luke rolled over with a sigh, clutching his father's lightsaber in both hands.

He had no other way out, there was only one option.

 **To be**.

Whether he wanted to or not, but one day he would have to awaken the Force. Consciously. On purpose. Right now he understood Anakin and his lust for power and strength very well - it was impossible not to want to escape from this hellhole, where he had been vegetating for the last five years.

And Luke wanted to escape - desperately.

But he would do it right.

What did he know about the Force?

The Force was a multipurpose tool, so to speak. People could use it to exercise power over themselves, the world and a variety of other subtle matters. Why was original Luke so lucky in canonic story? His luck was made of hundreds of little things, not impacting anything directly by themselves, but influencing the situation collectively. This was simply incredible! Now Lucifer just needed to find a way of establishing contact with this Force and to understand how to interact with it.

After all he already did it unconsciously.

"Hey, Force!" Luke muttered, hiding lightsaber under the bed. "A little help there! How do I do it?"

* * *

Kenobi frowned, looking at the Togruta approaching him. Shaak Ti looked great as always. Flexible, graceful... Dangerous. It was a good that no one could identify them in this hellhole. Still, it was rare for ordinary people to recognize a Jedi by sight even before the destruction of the Order, and nothing had changed from that time, which was good.

But still, there was always a risk to stumble upon an imperial agent, or even a bounty hunter, wanting to improve his financial standing at their expense. And that's why Kenobi was wearing ordinary clothes instead of Jedi robes, and had his lightsaber hidden in a wide sleeve.

Shaak Ti stepped closer and mockingly clasped his hands, imitating a beautiful but airheaded woman.

"Benny! Honey! It's been so long!"

Deftly grasping him by an arm, she purposefully dragged Kenobi into the office. This saloon rented out small rooms for business and personal negotiations, which they immediately took advantage of.

Closing the door, Shaak Ti activated small device under Obi-Wan's approving gaze.

"Tell me." Her calm voice was sharply contrasting with a sense of excitement and incredible interest emanating from the Togruta Master.

Kenobi shrugged. "What exactly are you interested in, Ti?"

"Everything. Yoda seems to be very excited lately."

"What about him?"

Togruta vaguely wiggled her fingers in the air. "Something has changed a year ago."

"So you also felt it?" The Jedi thoughtfully stroked his beard. Ti nodded vigorously.

"Yes. Something reshaped all of the Force lines. And we don't know what or **who** it was. So now everything is going depend on how the boy would take our story..."

"He knows."

Togruta trailed off, staring at the man. "He knows? You told him?"

"Yes. The Force…"

"What did you say to him?" Shaak Ti demanded, glaring at Obi-Wan.

"That Anakin Skywalker was killed by Vader."

Ti leaned back in her chair, analyzing new information and frowning more and more. "Revenge, then. That's bad."

"Why?"

"You said it to him..."

"In a personal meeting. And gave Anakin's lightsaber."

Shaak Ti shook her head. Togruta did not approve of the Grand Master's plan to force father and son into a confrontation. That was just wrong on so many levels! She had a bad feeling that this plan would backfire spectacularly and smack them right in the face with more dire consequences than even Anakin falling to the Dark Side. "It's wrong, Obi, it's just wrong."

Both Masters fell silent, slowly sipping their caf and flooding the room with mutual disapproval. Suddenly, Obi-Wan cried out, staring somewhere inward.

The barrier, erected around the boy, fell with clearly audible ring, its shattered shards melting away right before the Jedi's eyes. The cosmic ocean of the Force surged up when a new denizen, fenced off behind the aquarium walls up until this point, slid into its waters.

A wild mental scream, a desperate call for help directed to a particular recipient, resounded through the Force, making waves, which many caught the echoes of.

With a ringing crack the cup in Kenobi's hand splintered, spilling its contents upon the tablecloth, and Togruta clutched at her heart, anxiously listening to the Force. After a few long seconds both Masters exchanged a horror-filled look, reeling from the growing realization that all their plans for the future just crashed and burned.

"Luke!"

* * *

"Executor." Meditation chamber.

He was meditating, but, as usual lately, it wasn't bringing any results. Vader couldn't understand what was wrong. Strange premonitions had been bothering him this whole year, and he hadn't been able to determine their source.

The routine filled with work to the brim dragged on and on, distracting him from thinking too deeply about this vague danger he couldn't see clearly, but as soon as he had even one calm minute...

He couldn't even work out who or what was in danger exactly. Was it him? His Master? His fleet? The Empire? Or maybe the galaxy even, if he wasn't thinking big enough?

And in the last couple of days things got worse. The feeling of the coming end of the world was simply unbearable, the last time he felt something like this was after that horrible fateful vision about Padmé, which he later brought to life himself. And that baffled him the most, because he simply had no one left to lose – and his Master could certainly make anyone disappear himself with guaranteed results.

Finally giving in under the pressure, Vader closed himself in meditation chamber, deciding to finally deal with the source of this anxiety. His mind opened to the Force, letting it flow through him, blurring the boundaries between "self" and the infinite ocean, containing all that ever was and all that ever will be.

The Force was behaving strangely. Vader concentrated on its flow, letting the currents pass through him, registering something that he had not paid attention to before. The great ocean of the Force was dangerously still, as if before the storm. Anakin saw the real storm once and remembered the unnatural stillness of the waters before the nature unleashing its tremendous power upon the world.

And now he was seeing the same thing. The energy was slowly gathering at some distant point, only about to rush... Where? Who or what this avalanche would be brought down upon?

However, this was not the only oddity. The Sith suddenly realized that the galaxy was full of places and people, that had been previously hidden from him in the Force. He still couldn't see them, couldn't feel them, but Vader **knew** they were there somewhere. And that very fact made him wonder.

Suddenly the Force began to move. Under the gaze of meditating Sith multiple threads, disjointed and unconnected up to this point, rushed forward, entwining into one single thread. Broad rivers and narrow streams, ragged cords and finest threads were interweaving in a strange and seemingly chaotic manner, creating a completely new pattern, prerequisites for which did not exist before.

However, this interminable pattern was strangely incomplete.

Vader sensed this incompleteness, disturbing, spoiling the whole picture, with his gut. He was trying to discern the strange phenomenon in more detail, but unexpectedly felt himself becoming a part of a giant canvas, caught by a loose thread and being immediately incorporated into the whole – a final piece of a puzzle sliding home.

Vader instinctively jerked; a barely perceptible ripple swept through the canvas, touching upon someone hidden, and the whole delicate structure drew taut. There was a ringing sound of breaking glass - a strange barrier, located in the heart of the pattern, cracked, its shattered shards instantly melting away, and someone small and vulnerable and precious screamed in desperation, calling for help.

 **DAD!**

When the mental scream crashed right into his head Lord Vader's heart skipped a beat, and then set off at a double pace. …Dad?

* * *

Luke couldn't sit still, feeling antsy and anxious and as if he was about to burst from nervous energy. After wandering around aimlessly around the house for a few hours, the boy reluctantly responded to his uncle's request for help, going with him for a routine inspection of moisture traps.

Owen was worried. The little brat was behaving unsettlingly odd. He was strangely pensive, responding off the mark and apparently oblivious to his surroundings. After giving a listless nod in response to Owen's request, the boy fell in behind him, thinking very hard about something, muttering to himself and even waving his hands around from time to time.

"Luke," asked the man, finally fed up. "What's bothering you?

"Mmm?" Luke raised his head, frowning. "Uncle? Everything's... Well, no, everything is not actually okay".

"What exactly is wrong then?" questioned the man patiently. He was forced to learn how to be patient over the years because of the brat. Even attempting to pressure him was a recipe for disaster. And if for the first four years of his life the boy was still somewhat controllable, after reaching the age of four he got into a habit of flying into temper at a slightest provocation. And as for obeying orders… Luke either ignored them completely or fulfilled them in such a way that had Owen and Beru regretting ever giving them. From then on the brat responded only to requests, and any order the boy received had to be followed by an explanation as to why exactly he was required to perform this particular action.

As Luke once said in response to Owen's expressive tirade "I will fulfill any order. But you have to prove that I actually need to do it first!"

Both Larses were stunned speechless.

Gradually, Beru and Owen learned to interact with him again. It was easier for Beru, she was softer by nature, and looked at Luke as her own child, for which the boy paid her with care and love. True, his version of care and love was a little peculiar, but still.

As for Owen... He himself readily admitted that he had a heavy nature, which made interacting with Luke very difficult and fraud with many a conflict on who would outstubborn the other. They were like two bullheaded banthas sometimes. Although lately Owen began to lean toward the idea of him being the bantha and Luke being a Krayt dragon – still young and small and for some reason covered in a bantha's pelt.

"What's wrong, you're asking me?" Luke scratched his nose, critically examining the plating of the moisture trap and removing the first panel. "Everything. Absolutely everything."

Poking the wires with his screwdriver, Luke hemmed, carefully inspecting the messy insides of the machine, and reached for a toolbox, offered to him by the man standing nearby.

"Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me about my father."

Owen paused. This question had never been raised, even thought Luke knew perfectly well that he was not related to Larses by blood.

"Uh..."

"The truth, Uncle. I very much don't like being lied to. Or when someone tries to turn the truth from the inside out, playing with words and meanings. Describe your impressions after meeting Anakin Skywalker."

The man turned pale, watching as the boy calmly finished affixing the last panel to the moisture trap and wiped his hands with a cloth. Finally Luke turned to Owen, looking at him with cold blue eyes and quietly waiting for a response to his question. Calmly. Quietly.

A strange and terrible creature, for some reason masquerading as a little boy, looked at him from his nephew's young face with ice-cold sapphire eyes of the same transparent blue as the gems he had seen once on holonet.

"Uncle?"

Closing his eyes, the man desperately fought not to succumb to some irrational, sickly fear, suddenly gripping his heart. Sighing, Owen looked at the still waiting boy, accepting the inevitable.

This was the moment he had been waiting for all these years, dismissing time after time the silly hope that the child would not inherit his father's talents or nature. Oddly enough, he would have been able to put up with Luke's sensitivity to the Force, but the boy's nature, on the other hand...

Well, the universe once again proved that hope was a stupid feeling.

"What do you want to know?"

"I see you're not even asking where I learned about him" Luke smirked. "And rightly so. Okay, let's hear it."

"Anakin was my half-brother. We met only once, but it was enough for me. Your grandmother was taken by Tuskens. A search-group was sent for her, but they returned empty-handed and suffering losses of their own." The man paused, remembering the horrible condition of the survivors of that raid. "And then Anakin appeared out of nowhere. He was furious... Had a screaming match with father and then sped off into the night. He returned very different. I don't know how to describe it... Like..."

"As if all the light inside of him went out" finished Luke.

Owen looked at him puzzled, but then nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. Like all the light went out. Then, after his departure, we finally found the camp of Tuskens. He killed everyone. Absolutely everyone. Some of the bodies were just... He just tore them apart."

Luke nodded curtly.

"Yes. This is called the "Fall", however, in this case that definition is a little inappropriate. Rather, it was something like a reset" vaguely commented the child, making Owen choke in surprise. "Come on, Uncle. I have a bad feeling. Let's get moving."

Luke nervously patted his chest, revealing the curious shape of some hidden object. Owen sharply looked at the boy.

"What have you got there?"

"My precious" chuckled the impossible child. Lars just sighed, making a point not to ask any questions he may not be ready to hear the answer to – he was shaken enough as it was.

Picking up the toolbox, Luke and Owen went home, avoiding the rock outcroppings sticking out from the ground. The sand was rustling under their feet, the sun was shining, Luke was nervously fingering the lightsaber, taped to his body and Owen was looking around suspiciously. They have already passed half way, when the Force finally decided to respond to the boy's request for assistance to activate his abilities.

With each step his intuition was screaming louder and louder. Luke couldn't breathe; he felt as if the air condensed, making any movement forward an exercise in frustration. He started to turn his head in search of any clue on what the hell was happening, unflinchingly tearing the duct tape off and snatching the lightsaber in his hand.

Owen, feeling nervous, looked back at his charge, which suddenly stopped in his tracks. The surrounding area was clear, thought, containing nothing out of the ordinary; just sand, an occasional outcropping of rock here and there and one withered bush tumbleweed.

Nothing else.

But Luke was getting more and more nervous, and Owen was not stupid or suicidal to ignore the foreboding of a Force-user. So the man picked up the pace, grabbing the boy by hand. The child lurched forward and then abruptly froze again, staring at the dune on their right completely petrified.

Everything that happened after Owen saw in slow motion, like in those movies from holonet.

 _First grains of sand, crumbling down, turning into streams._

 _Luke, whimpering in terror, his sweaty fingers painfully clenching his uncle's hand._

 _The dune, exploding with sand, and revealing a huge head with a toothily, grinning maw._

 _Luke, unclenching his grip, and Owen being pushed away, flung aside with the swipe of invisible hand._

 _Angry buzzing of the saber's plasma blade._

 _Huge jaws, opening wide; Krayt dragon's head, surging forward in a hungry, vicious move._

 _Activated lightsaber thrown inside the opened maw, and the reptile reflexively swallowing it._

 _The boy, leaping aside just in time to avoid being crushed, all the while screaming in terror with a wild abandon_.

When Luke saw the unbelievably huge jaws of something resembling a dinosaur bearing down on him, the only thing he could do was activate the lightsaber, clutched in his hand, throw it in the vague direction of the approaching monster, jump to the side and then follow with something instinctive to any child in distress - call for a parent to come and make everything better.

 **DAD!**

And the invisible barrier around him shattered like glass.

The beast roared, rearing up and clawing at the air. It writhed in agony, bucking up with its legs, raising clouds of sand into the air under the stunned looks of its two-legged former prey.

Sharply jerking its head, the great Krayt dragon collapsed on the side with a lightsaber's blade sticking out from the beast's neck, cutting the flesh more and more with each muscle contraction.

The angry bellow of the dragon was deafening. Luke fell on his ass, hiccupping with terror and raking his fingers through the sand. Owen, shaking but already recovered after his short flight, dragged the child away from the wildly trashing beast.

The roaring finally died down when the Krayt dragon, writhing with pain, sharply jerked its head again, cutting its own vocal cords with a saber, and even after that the great beast didn't stop convulsing for a long time. Reptiles were tenacious and hardy by their very nature, but this specimen clearly surpassed them all.

Luke, hiccupping and whimpering from the nightmarish experience, watched the dragon twist around in death throes and maim itself more and more with each new convulsion with wide eyes. Owen shook his shoulder, and the boy turned to his uncle, showing his bloodless ashen face.

"Now that's service!" said the boy, shaking all over. "That's not canon anymore!"

Luke violently shuddered once, twice, choked out a short dry sob, and then broke out in a fit of hysterical laugher, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs under his uncle's knowing look. Fear and adrenaline were being drained out of him along with laughter and tears streaming from his eyes. Owen left the child to his hysterics; he himself was in no better condition.

Like all of the locals living in the desert, he knew of Krayt dragons and saw other people's trophies, but to stumble upon such a wonder himself... No, thanks. Even with such a positive outcome of the meeting the idea was still not appealing to him in the slightest.

Owen didn't care where the little brat got his lightsaber and he didn't care about the boy's father issues; he didn't care about anything at all right now.

The biological killing machine was weakly twitching not far from him in the throes of death, and that was enough to keep his mouth shut, silencing all of his foolish and dangerous questions. Sure, his nephew could give him all the answers he wanted, but what would it change?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

So there was no point of addling his head with trivialities.

Luke fell silent at last, sprawling on the sand like a starfish and absently watching the last convulsions of the demonstration aid he so hotheadedly asked the Force for. His head was full of confusion and disarray, but his heart was, in a contrast, blooming with psychedelic daisies. The boy was smiling happily, finally starting to understand who he really was and what exactly it meant to be the child of a Chosen One and a woman with very interesting ancestry, at least according to his guesswork and what he remembered from briefly being held in his mother's arms.

It was simply incredible.

It felt like some kind of shields, up till now surrounding him from all sides and making it difficult to breathe, were finally broken. Or at least that's what it felt like. Apparently, Obi-Wan had been always loitering nearby for a reason and it was not just Luke's paranoia.

When he was screaming in terror, calling the one who had been consuming all of his thought lately, he sensed a flexible barrier around him, giving in under his feral need to survive. Luke felt like he was rapidly swelling, getting bigger and bigger in all directions at once, making the barrier, fencing him, explode, just like a balloon explodes if you pump too much air inside, because it simply wasn't made to withstand that kind of pressure.

And everything changed.

Describing it in human terms was impossible.

How could he put into words the feeling of a dried out shriveled sponge, squeezed into nothing by a strong hand, after being thrown into the water basin? How could he describe the feeling of separate water droplets seeping inside and then effortlessly merging with the greater whole, freely flowing within and throughout the porous texture?

How could he describe it?

 _He was a spider, keenly responsive to the slightest vibration of the thinnest threads of the web._

 _He was a fish in the ocean, moving with the flow, invisible from above._

 _He was a bird, detecting the slightest changes in air currents with his primary feathers._

 _He was a comet hurtling through space, led forward by the celestial bodies' gravitation fields._

 _He was the Sun, mercilessly burning all life on the planet orbiting too close to it._

 _He was the pitch-black darkness, benevolent and kind, wrapping those who begged for salvation in it shroud._

A line from an ancient text written by one of the followers of Buddha suddenly emerged from his memory.

 _How to prevent the drop of water from drying out in the sun? Throw it into the ocean._

He became both that drop and the ocean itself.

And it was...magnificent.

Owen watched silently as Luke stood up on his unsteady legs and started spinning around, quietly laughing a happy, joyful laugh.

"Uncle! This is amazing!" breathed out that strange creature in child's body, looking at him with shining blue eyes. "How did I live without it? **How?** " The boy raised his face to the sky and shouted "Thank you!"

Owen wasn't even surprised. Everything that had happened finally closed in on him all at once, enveloping his mind with strange detached calmness.

"Hello, Universe! It's me!" Luke turned to his listless uncle and smiled cheerfully. "Well, Uncle? Let's look at my first trophy, yeah? We must consider how we are going to drag it home. Should we cut the carcass up to make it easier? There's also the lightsaber I'll have to somehow dig out. Is the meat edible?

"Well, yes, I think" shrugged Owen uncertainly, standing up.

"Cool! So much meat! Is the hide expensive? No, no, I'll not give it away! That beast is mine. ...The head. It will go on the wall. And the claws will make amazing necklace..."

Gushing with ideas of many uses of the Krayt dragon's carcass, Luke circled the dead beast, however, not coming too close to it. What if it suddenly jerked?

"The hide will go on the wall too. Maybe I'll make myself a jacket after dressing it properly. That'd be so cool! Teeth! Claws! A Krayt dragon is not just a couple of tons of highly digestible meat, he-he-he..."

* * *

His heart was pounding like crazy despite all the efforts of a life-support system. His chest ached. Not physically, no. It was that place inside of his soul with a ragged hole right in the center of it, still oozing blood after all this years, that was aching. The same place he tore the connection to everything good and light from with his own hands. Only now in the midst of rot and devastation there was a taut thin thread. Wafer-thin and frail, it fluttered softly in time with his heart beat, ringing quietly, but clearly.

Vader carefully pressed his hands to his chest, looking at the snow-white wall of the meditation chamber. He was wavering between two opposing desires. His distrust was baring its sharp teeth towards the tiny, frail spark of hope, which emerged after years of cowering in the darkest corner of his soul, his rage was chomping at the bit to tear the source of such conflict to shreds, and his caution was insisting that everything was a potential trap.

Just, what was that?

 **What. Was. That.**

Who could call for him in the Force with such power, despair and hope all mixed together?

Who could call him... **dad**?

The only one with whom he had any kind of sexual contact, was Amidala. And not just because there were no other options. The tall, handsome Jedi had been drawing many eyes. Too many. Instead of basking in adoration, he had been disgusted, shrinking away from touching the minds filled with greedy want. To become another trophy in the collection, or an exotic animal in a zoo, or a source of political influence... That was not for him.

And that's why he didn't have any other children aside from the one, who died along with Amidala.

With an exasperated wave of his hand, Vader sat back, preparing himself to engage in a distasteful and unfamiliar activity - analysis of everything happened so far. Still, the man was forced to admit, that his Master taught him well, and he understood exactly how well only now. What would Jedi Knight Skywalker have done in his place? He would have jumped up and rushed forward, overflowing with emotions and smashing everything around on his way. What would he have done, as a Vader, at the start of his Sith training? The same thing, only the devastation would have been even greater.

What would he do now, after five years of training with Palpatine?

He would start with collecting information and only then make any conclusions. The Force was silent... No matter. That's what ordinary people were for. He had the intelligence department, personally devoted to him, the power of the government machine at his fingertips and all the means and opportunities he needed for such a task. And his fleet's route was very conveniently lying not far from the planet he studiously avoided all these years.

Vader stood up, donning a helmet and securing the life support system. The doors swung open and he stepped out of the chambers into his private quarters.

A minute later an adjutant entered the quarters, dutifully holding a sounding board.

"Call Captain Pratt here immediately. Get me a summary report on Naboo. Prepare my shuttle just in case." He would check the facts first. As he should have done five years ago.

* * *

Darkness was filling the meditation hall. Shocked. Searching. Curious.

Palpatine was carefully thumbing through different Force threads with sensitive fingers, increasingly astonished and excited.

What was that?

How did one Force-user manage to stir up the ocean of the Great Force so much that the echo of his cry for help reached the other side of the galaxy?

Who was he, this stranger?

The Force patterns were changing right under the eyes of the shocked Sith, intertwining into something completely new and unexpected. The connections were also changing, both qualitatively and quantitatively, under the influence of a decision, made by someone else, someone whom he had not seen and still couldn't see, but sensed with his whole being.

 **Who are you?**

And why did he have the feeling that the fate of the galaxy would depend on what he decided to do about this curious stranger?

* * *

Obi-Wan was overflowing with growing anxiety and despair.

What happened?

Why the shields protecting the child from any search in the Force were destroyed?

He needed to hurry; the enemies were on the watch. The Force was persistently warning him that various search parties had already been sent out. He needed to hurry...

Shaak Ti, sitting next to him, sighed. Togruta was relentless. She did not pay his objections any attention, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. "I'm going with you. End of discussion. You'll need help."

Now they were flying to Tatooine as fast as they could.

They still had another three hours of travel ahead of them.

* * *

Naboo.

Nobody paid any attention to the landing of a small and battered shuttle, and even less to its pilot – the inconspicuous, dull-looking man, a small trader, according to documents. He registered his arrival where necessary, tried to (unsuccessfully) charm the woman from the Customs Service, sighed despondently upon receiving only a skeptical glare for all his efforts and went to the nearest hotel.

He had a great deal of work ahead of him.

* * *

Trying to dig out an activated lightsaber from the carcass proved to be difficult, but doable. Luke had to carefully cut the muscles, surrounding the saber, and then feel for the deactivation button by hand, getting elbows-deep in blood and meat and tendons in the process. Finally pulling the bloody handle out, Luke cringed, wrapped it in a cloth he usually wiped his hands with after repairing something, and tucked the resulting bundle in his belt. Satisfied with the state of his weapon for the moment, Luke turned his full attention on examining his first tangible evidence of the Force's existence, as well as the testament to his own ridiculous luck.

The Krayt dragon was staggering.

Resembling a cross between the enormous Komodo dragon monitor and a dinosaur, covered with thick hide with some small scales here and there, with horny increments, powerful claws on thick paws and a maw full of teeth, of which the killer whale can only dream of, the beast looked like a perfect machine of death.

Its multi-ton carcass loomed over Luke like a mountain, making him bounce around with anticipation.

"Uncle! We need to decide what to do with it and fast! Or the meat will rot!

Owen scratched his head, looking critically at the treasure, suddenly landed in his lap. "Let's use the speeder."

"Hmm! Good idea!"

What happened after made Luke burst out laughing, because they looked like ants pulling the load many times exceeding their weight to an anthill. Owen went away to get a speeder, leaving Luke to guard his prey and silently calculate where to start skinning the beast from, but came back as fast as he could. They tied the carcass with ropes, hitched it to the speeder and slowly and painfully dragged it home. The speeder moaned and groaned under the strain, not being built for such an overload. However, slowly and steadily, but they were moving - happy Luke, worried Lars and the dragon that didn't feel anything anymore on the account of being dead.

Beru, meeting them at the edge of their property, stood for a few moments looking at the picture they made, frozen in shock and completely speechless. Luke, leaping into her arms, happily shrieking "Aunt Beru! Just look what I hunted down!" was the last straw.

In response to his wife's shocked glance Owen just spread his hands and nodded, confirming the words of child.

"Good gracious" muttered the woman to herself, not able to tear her eyes away from the huge corpse of the most dangerous predator on Tatooine. "If you started with a Krayt dragon, what would you go after next?"

"What do you mean?" asked Luke, surprised. "Next will be the Empire, of course. I have to justify my name and fulfill my parents' hopes, don't I?"

His blue eyes flashed with something predatory.


	5. Force majeure circumstances

**PART 4. Force majeure circumstances.**

Gripping the controls of his favorite shuttle, Vader grinned with malicious anticipation, ready to descent on Naboo like an angel of death.

Like it or not, but he was a Skywalker. That was his essence, the innermost nature of the Dark Lord of the Sith. All the analysis took no more than ten minutes – just enough time for technicians to prepare the ship.

His scout hardly had the time to get down to the planet, when Vader was already rushing to the launch pad, accompanied by the relieved faces of his subordinates, emanating waves of pure, unclouded happiness: the crew was obviously looking forward to a short break from his stifling presence.

His scout would conduct a proper search, turning this seemingly peaceful nest of vipers upside down if necessary, and Vader himself would need to spend only half an hour on this planet to make certain with his own eyes what his gut was already firmly convinced of.

His child **lived**.

His blood was boiling; the Force was trashing around him, rolling up wave after wave like a sandstorm on Tatooine, his hands were gripping the controls so hard, they were in a very real danger of crumbling into pieces.

He plummeted down on the planet like a meteor, gently dropping the ship on the familiar landing area, located near the palace.

The guards instantly froze when the second person of the Empire jumped out of a black shuttle. Captain quickly said something into the comlink and hastily made his subordinates assume something vaguely resembling a guard of honor formation, which Vader hadn't paid any attention to.

He flew past the soldiers, staring at him in a mix of astonishment and fear, waving away the captain and several courtiers that tried to stop him. Catching the pudgy sycophant that didn't dodge him in time by the collar, Vader asked laconically:

"Where is Queen Amidala's tomb?"

The round chubby face was dripping with sweat. The man mumbled something, and Vader, rapidly losing the last remnants of his already short patience, shook him like a sack of junk, and growled, articulating every syllable:

"Where is her tomb?"

The courtier acted wisely. He jabbed his hand in the direction of the approaching captain, watching the public flogging with shocked eyes, rasped "show him" and passed out with the feeling of satisfaction at a job well done.

Vader opened his hand, dropping the unconscious body on the floor in disgust and turned to the captain, who went pale as paper and immediately took off.

Five minutes later Vader was standing in the tomb, silently looking at the heavy stone sarcophagus. Multicolored sunlight was shining through stained glass windows, commemorative lanterns lighting up the dark corners. With an effort discarding the memories threatening to swallow him whole, Vader put his hand on the sarcophagus and focused.

The Force poured inside, sensing for what was under the heavy stone slab and what **wasn't**. When he finally comprehended what the Force was telling him, Vader couldn't suppress the scream of rage tearing out from his throat.

There was no trace of the child in the sarcophagus.

Bulldozing through the crowd gathered in the doorway, he raced to the shuttle, instantly taking off into the sky. The Force was screaming and moaning, enveloping the shuttle in a black veil, pointing him straight at his target. Vader started giving orders straight out of the shuttle.

"We're changing the course."

"Destination?"

Vader clenched his fists.

"Tatooine" finally breathed out the Sith with hatred.

* * *

Luke looked at the carcass, towering above him, and felt like an idiot. An absolute, blithering idiot.

What was that? Stress? Hormones? An attack of stupidity turning his brain into mush? Instincts of a predator rearing up their ugly head?

The boy looked at the skinning knife in his hand, at the dragon, at his uncle, who was enjoying the spectacle while lounging comfortably in the easy chair with a cup of caf in his hand and silently contemplating the suffering of the child about to try skinning the carcass many times exceeding his own size with a blunt toothpick.

"Go ahead!" encouraged him Owen, saluting Luke with a mug. "You'll be done in a week, max!"

"In a month, more likely..." Luke muttered darkly, looking daggers at the carcass. "Or, rather, never at all."

"Mmm?"

Luke climbed on the corpse, using dragon's leg as a ladder, and stared into the distance. The boy's eyes became unfocused, as if he was watching and listening to something inaccessible to Lars.

"Uncle, I've got some news. There are bad news, good news, terrible news and nightmarish news. Which do you want to hear first?

Owen stood up and came closer.

"What happened?"

"Which one?"

"The bad one. Hit me."

"Okay." The boy sat down right where he was standing and looked into his uncle's tired eyes. "Firstly. My presence is no longer a secret."

"What do you mean?" the man asked. "It had never been a secret. A lot of people know that you live with us."

"Well, yes" the boy nodded. "But none of these people are Force-users. Do you understand? Nobody aside from Kenobi knew of my existence, that I'm the son of Anakin Skywalker and gifted in the Force. And they didn't know about this for one simple reason - Obi-Wan put some kind of shielding around me. And when we were almost eaten by the Krayt dragon, this shielding shattered, I felt it."

"I see" grunted Owen. He was not even surprised at a five year old talking like an adult, which was a cause for alarm in of itself. But, apparently, he had already exhausted his limit for feeling surprised today.

"That was bad news. Now for the good news. Apparently, I was able to call my father. I don't know if he understood who I was, thought, but he should have." Luke grimaced, trying to explain what he felt during those awful moments of standing in the path of an angry Krayt dragon. "Which means that he most likely is already on the way here."

Owen stood slack-jawed. Luke could almost see the information being digested in his mind – slowly and painfully, like a lagging computer. In the end Lars blinked several times, astonished, shook his head and got his act together.

"What the hell!" Owen managed to force out, frowning at his nephew. "What father? What are you talking about? Anakin is dead! He had been dead for several years!"

Luke shook his head confidently.

"He's alive. What did Kenobi tell you when he brought me here?"

"That Anakin was dead, that he was killed by Darth Vader and that the latter will now be gunning for you. That you were in danger and he had nowhere else to go."

"Obi-Wan did not lie, but he didn't tell you the whole truth either." The stony blue-eyed stare, that Luke adopted, looked strange and unnatural on a child's face. "And it's not the first or the last time he used this tactic either. Never underestimate Master of the Jedi Order, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. He never was a fool. A black-and-white thinker and a fanatic, yes - but never a fool. He was always talented in playing with words." Luke grinned, remembering his "vision". "He had other places he could have brought me. There were many options, but, oddly enough, he chose the most stupid option at first glance, but actually the best one. Where is the darkest place? Right under the candle. Father would never have returned here on his own accord. He hates this place, so Kenobi risked nothing. You did spoil his game in the beginning, but he still managed to turn it to his advantage."

Luke suddenly trailed off and narrowed his eyes, looking off into the distance again. His eyes lost focus, pupils dilated. After a few moments he sighed.

"Let me tell you a state secret, uncle. Darth Vader could not kill Anakin Skywalker for one simple reason – that would be suicide."

"What does it mean?!"

"Anakin Skywalker **is** Darth Vader."

"…What?"

Lars froze. This was the final blow for him. The man gave a single sob and then burst out laughing. Luke simply nodded in understanding and carefully climbed off the carcass, directing his steps towards the half-open jaws. The beast's teeth alone were staggering: big, sharp, slightly curved... Just looking at them made the boy break out in a fist-sized goosebumps.

While uncle was busy having a mental breakdown, Luke undercut the gum with a knife, loosened the tooth with several accurate blows, carefully gripped it and then started pulling it out. After a few minutes of fruitless wheezing and grunting his patience finally snapped, and the boy picked up a small hammer, solving the whole problem in one blow.

Suddenly he staggered, clinging to the beast's leg to keep himself from falling down, staring somewhere in the distance with unfocused eyes and silently moving his lips. Owen, finished with his fit, wiped his tears, staring warily at the boy, pale and visibly frightened.

"No, anything but that..."

" Luke?"

"Uncle?" Blue eyes were filled with horror. He anxiously examined Lars from head to foot and only then breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Force" groaned the boy. "Everything's all right, uncle. I just received a warning, and now I'm wondering how to weasel my way out of trouble." He threw Owen a strange glance, biting his lip, clearly torn, and then finally coming to some kind of decision. "But before that, I will explain the problem. If my father was alive all this time, how could I be here without him knowing about it?"

"Kidnapping..." Lars gasped, rapidly paling.

"And what mood do you think he would be in when he arrives here?"

Owen turned green. A clear picture of a destroyed camp of Tuskens rose before his eyes. Maimed bodies, the stench of burning flesh, the suffocating smell of decay...

"That's right," nodded Luke, who understood what his uncle was thinking about. "This means that you'll grab all of your savings, take a speeder and go away somewhere else with Aunt Beru. I don't want to know where. And you won't come back for at least two days. Am I clear?

"But..." Owen faltered. "What about you? Hurry up and get ready, you're going with us! We're…"

"Uncle" his nephew looked steadily at him. "There is no "we". If my father sees you, you will be killed. Do you understand? The only way for you to survive is to leave me here. And I don't want to lose two people who replaced father and mother for me and taught me what it means to be a family."

Lars just stared at his nephew, not knowing what to say. The brat closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You've got half an hour. The clock is ticking."

"Beru!" Owen bellowed, rushing into the house. "Get ready to leave! Right now!"

Lucifer turned toward the desert, staring into space. He felt… strange.

"So this is how it manifests, then?" he mused out loud. "Strange. I didn't see anything clearly, but still knew what to do. Funny, it's been only two hours, and I'm already besieged on all sides. Still... thank you, Force. If I understand correctly, Kenobi and my father are already en route. And father will get there first. Fantastic. But even if by some strange twist of fate Kenobi would manage to arrive here before Vader, I'll find something to surprise him with."

Owen dashed through the house, throwing all of his credit cards, few changes of clothes and documents into a small travel bag. Beru only had the time to take a change of underwear, a cloak and a small package of food, when her husband pushed all of her things into his bag, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the house.

Luke was already waiting for them. He hugged them both, kissed his aunt on the cheek and then pushed them towards the speeder.

"C'mon, hurry up. I'll visit you later."

"Promise?" sobbed Beru. She was scared. First there were those strange fits her nephew suffered from, then Luke and Owen were almost eaten by a Krayt dragon, and now her husband was rushing for the two of them to leave without explaining anything properly. All of that left her frightened and disoriented.

"I promise," stated the child seriously. "Go. You two are very dear to me and I don't want to bury you, at least, not yet. We'll meet again. More than once even. Uncle, could you clean the scull and the claws? This is my first trophy, after all."

Owen nodded, pushed his wife onto the speeder, waved his hand and pressed the button. Luke smiled sadly, watching the sand raised by the speeder slowly settle down.

"You see, Uncle, it's is not all that simple. Right now your death is detrimental to Kenobi's plans, but later... I must take into account his unusual for a Jedi tendency towards unexpected combinations. He did sacrifice mother with barely a thought, setting her up so masterfully, that the Sith would weep with envy. But Vader would destroy you for sure. Because you were close to me and he wasn't. Because I loved you and not him. Because I was raised by you and not by him. Because he was late again. Dark Lords are very jealous, I know for myself, and the ways they like to distress are very peculiar. I don't care how many officers he will strangle, they get paid for taking that risk, but you're just ordinary people. Still, I cannot help but admire your strength of spirit, Owen, to raise the son of Anakin Skywalker, when you remember perfectly well what happened the last time you met him. You're a brave man. And that's why I cannot allow you to meet my father, because he's in a different class of weigh altogether. Maybe later he'll regret killing you a little, but most likely he won't. It will take me a lot of time and effort to knock some sense into Vader, to say nothing about anyone else, not connected to him by blood. Right now you are a means of blackmail, a threat and a hindrance, as well as a dead weight. You'll be killed …and I don't like it when someone encroaches upon what I claimed as mine."

Activating the lightsaber, Luke approached the carcass and started cutting it up, slicing the head off first and then pulling it with great difficulty away from the main body.

The lightsaber was amazing. It was cutting the flesh with incredible ease of a hot knife passing through butter, making Luke wrinkle his nose at the sharp smell of burning meat. Steadily carving away small pieces and flinging them aside, he reached the beast's stomach, which was where his treasure, that made him force his uncle to drag the carcass to the farm, was located. After all, if Luke only wanted meat and bones, he could have butchered the dragon right where he killed it just as easily.

The innards finally poured out of the huge hole in the beast's underbelly and Luke grimaced with disgust, but came closer and, armed with a knife, began digging in the stomach, becoming more aggrieved with each passing minute.

The twin suns were mercilessly burning him with their scorching heat, the blood, meat and guts were reeking something terrible, choking him up and forcing to swallow sticky saliva in order to avoid adding the acid contents of his own stomach to the mix. But the treasure Luke wanted to find would surely make all of his suffering worth it. In the end Luke snarled, losing the last patience, and burrowed inside the dead body of a dragon head first.

It was hard, but he was completely focused on his goal, shredding the dragon's stomach. Suddenly his hand came across something hard and round and the boy grinned, pulling it out of the mucus.

In his palm laid a ball the size of a tangerine, covered with blood and some sort of crust, but for Luke at that moment it was the most important and desirable thing in the world. Luke shook his head, tearing his greedy gaze away from the treasure, and grimaced in disgust.

He was covered in blood, mucus, and a lot of other unpleasant things, not to mention the smell.

"Okay. I desperately need to clean myself up. Dad will probably be here soon, and I don't want to look like a murder victim when we meet."

Entering the house, Luke raced to the freshener, throwing the pearl, which he managed to peel some crust from, into the sound cleaner. After changing his clothes, the boy began preparing the bag - a few shirts and trousers, underclothes, some household trifles, his favorite toy. A deck. A pearl, carefully placed inside the special pocket on his belt. A sheath with a knife, attached to his shin. The Force was good and all, and the lightsaber was even better, but he still wanted to have some kind of "last resort" weapon to surprise anyone thinking of him as a harmless victim. Just in case. Most Force-users were very arrogant and paid the price for it accordingly. But knifes were his first weapon and in the past year he regained some skills. Even better, no one would expect it from a child, which Luke will use to his advantage. If Kenobi started putting on airs, for example, Luke will have a way to quickly disabuse him of that notion.

Of course, thinking like that was nothing short of presumptuous, but he needed to keep a grip on himself somehow in light of Vader's impending arrival.

How did he react to the fact that he had a son? Was Vader even aware that he had a son and not, for example, a daughter? He didn't know in the original story, because Padmé wanted the gender of their child to be a surprise and Luke even vaguely remembered them arguing about it in one of the episodes.

"Come on, Dad! Hurry up! I'm waiting for you!"

All this restless jittering made him hungry. His stomach growled, and Luke gave in, opening the fridge and taking out a plate with fried lizard meat from yesterday's hunting. Energetically chewing, Luke absently mused that he did the right thing by sending uncle Owen and aunt Beru away. There was a clear feeling that nothing good would have come from Larses staying here with him. Luke was absolutely sure that both of them would have died, but couldn't name the party responsible for it with any degree of confidence. Would it have been Vader? Kenobi? Some kind of third party?

Now they at least had a chance. Luke really didn't want to lose more of his family.

* * *

Typically, flying from Naboo to Tatooine took six hours.

Which was unacceptably long in the opinion of Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. The crew was practically jumping out of their skin to do two things at once, trying to fulfill their direct duties without annoying the boss too much.

Nobody knew anything, but the result of Vader's short visit to Naboo was very apparent to everybody - his already mean temper became downright nasty. He also charted the course to Tatooine himself, obviously familiar with the route, making the navigators exchange uneasy glances.

The new course shaved at least two hours from the estimated travel time, which was still not fast enough for Vader. He wanted to be there immediately! His child was there! **His. Child.**

His son.

Vader was fairly certain that it was a son and not a daughter. He often argued with Padmé during her pregnancy about the gender of their future child, but now he just knew that she gave birth to a boy. Through the trembling thin thread of a new connection he felt somebody small, vulnerable and at the same time strong on the other end of a bond. Vader could almost see the blond hair and blue eyes. Or was it just wishful thinking?

After standing on the bridge for a while, the Sith Lord finally gave in and stormed off to his private quarters, nervous and shaken. But the more he thought about this whole situation, the more furious he became.

The identity of the one who arranged it all was not a secret for Vader. Who else could it have been but Obi-Wan Kenobi, deceitful and treacherous? Only he was there on Mustafar, only he could have taken Padmé away. Master told him that when he arrived on the planet neither his wife nor the ship was there, which meant that Padmé was still alive then. She probably lived only long enough to give birth to their baby. Anyway, his intelligence service would find all the details later - one way or another.

Gloved hands tightened into fists; the Force, responding to its wielder agitation, stirred, rattling the black crystal figurine standing on a nearby table. Glancing at it, Vader exhaled noisily and collapsed into a chair, trying to calm his frantic thoughts.

He had a son. The upcoming meeting unnerved and disconcerted him both. Would he be welcomed? Was the boy told about him anything? Probably not. There was no way Kenobi revealed the truth, most likely feeding his child some fairy tale about a long dead Jedi father, the bastard.

No matter... He would find his son. Whatever it takes.

Suddenly the connecting thread jerked, flooding him with growing unease and _wrongness_. Something bad was happening to the boy on the other end of that thread.

Vader jumped up from the chair, wanting to pace, to fight, to do something, anything, but instead he forced himself to go into the meditation chamber. He closed his eyes, automatically starting counting breaths - this simple exercise always helped him. The doors closed, cutting the chamber off from the outside world. Finally Vader calmed down enough to open his mind to the Force.

The Great ocean of energy was restless. He could see many points of disturbances in the form of swirling vortexes, emerging and disappearing in the next instant, and Force currents, constantly flexing and shifting without rhyme or reason.

Instability.

As if _something_ that should not have been possible - happened, and it changed the whole balance. Vader gently touched the thread connecting him to a boy on Tatooine - his child shined in the Force like a small, but very bright star.

Its light was trembling with impatience and anxiety. Vader tried to send a wave of approval in an attempt to calm the boy, internally despairing at their still weak connection. If only he was there at his child's birth, if only he had the opportunity to take the infant in his arms, to watch him grow, if only…

However, it was not the time for wallowing in regret. The most important thing right now was to reassure his son, to let him know that he was no longer alone; that he had a father who would try his damnest to protect him.

Bit by bit the anxious fluttering Vader sensed from the connection began subsiding, calming down. The Sith took a relieved breath – and then promptly choked on it: after a sharp and abrupt spike of horror the star simply... winked out.

For a few incredibly long moments Vader, shocked by the suddenness of it, just stared at the fading imprint of his son's presence in the Force. And then reinforced doors to his chambers blew off from the hinges and got smashed into a wall under the Force-fuelled pressure of the Dark Lord's wrath.

" **NO!** "

The walls were shaking, the chair melting, twisting and bending out of shape. Vader was screaming, breathless with seething, mindless rage, clouding his sight with bloody shroud. He was pounding the floor with his fists, leaving dents and cracks in the metal.

Wheezing from the effort, the man took his rampaging instincts under control, forcefully clearing his mind from destructive emotions.

Inhale. Exhale.

In, out.

The Great ocean of the Force was spreading out before him once again, its waters troubled and agitated. Vader directed all his attention to the space where his son's presence had been just seconds before , pushing himself to the limit, cutting through the Force currents like a blade, searching for anything that might indicate how exactly his child could have just disappeared from the Force like that.

What he came across was a dark veil.

Someone concealed his son's presence in the Force.

Someone strong, well-trained and not above using or abusing the Dark Side of the Force.

Someone.

" **Whoever you are...** " The Dark Lord's rage was burning this message in the Force, making the air tremble around him. " **I will find you.** "

* * *

Kenobi and Shaak Ti were approaching the planet, when the presence of the boy suddenly vanished from the Force entirely. Masters exchanged glances.

"Vader?"

"I don't think so." Togruta shook her head. "It's someone else."

Her opinion was proven to be correct, when their concealing shields started cracking, almost collapsing under the force of another Force-user's direct attention. Darkness swelled, sweeping through the galaxy like a tidal wave, fierce, cruel and so very hungry for blood.

 **Whoever you are...**

It was only the echo of the original message, but it still forced both Masters to grit their teeth and hastily strengthen the shields.

 **I will find you.**

* * *

Obi-Wan wiped his forehead with a trembling hand, turning to the absolutely exhausted Togruta.

" _That_ was Vader."

"He knows," resignedly stated Shaak Ti. "He sensed Luke."

"What do we do now?"

"We'll search for the boy. I don't think the responsible party is still on Tatooine. Too risky."

The pressure of Darkness quickly became unbearable. Kenobi felt as if someone poured a bag of fire drones on him and now an army of poisonous little insects were running all over his body, stinging and burning his skin. Shaak Ti coped with the feeling by meditation but even she was at the end of her patience.

Just as their ship was entering hyperspace the skies of Tatooine split open, letting out a Star Destroyer.

* * *

Yoda shook his head, frowning. His sharp ears drooped, wrinkles became deeper. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order was perplexed.

The plan, so clearly seen by him years ago, ensuring the future victory of the Light and defeat of the Dark - a beautiful, precise plan – collapsed under the crushing weigh of reality.

The first signs that something was going wrong cropped up a year ago. The presence of someone unexpected and unaccounted for changed the alignment of the Force currents the old Master counted upon during his planning, distorting some possible futures and outright closing others. This was the first sign... But then Kenobi had been able to fix the problem by performing one of the necessary actions, leading to an important shatterpoint. All new developments from that point were within normal limits, and then life dealt them a new blow.

It was like the Force was laughing at old Master and his plans, creating a situation in which the Fallen learned that his child was still alive.

The boy's desperate cry for help reached the intended destination. The result was terrible: the one, who dwelled in the Dark, discovering that his flesh and blood had been stolen from him... The Force was churning with his seething rage, making all the Force-users across the galaxy either tremble in fright or spoil for a fight.

But, as if that was not enough, a new disaster emerged right on the tail end of the last one. The echo of a child's cry was still reverberating through the Force, when his presence abruptly vanished. And several threads of possibility, strong and clear until this very moment, were just as abruptly cut off from the fabric of reality, destroying old patterns and completely reshaping the future.

Someone who was not supposed to be anywhere near Tatooine, someone who should have been threading a different path and moving in the opposite direction, hidden the boy, destined to restore the balance.

Yoda shook his head and hobbled to the hut, shoulders hunched. He was acutely feeling the weight of the centuries, pressing down upon him like a mountain. He felt like an ancient relic of times long gone, old and tired, capable of only staring at the sunset while steadily crumbling apart piece by piece and knowing that all of his efforts and struggles ultimately had not change anything.

The Force seemed to laugh at him, showing the old Master a clear way to salvation in one moment and then instantly closing it in the next, leaving him one on one with the ugly future in all of its bloody glory.

The Fallen would drown the galaxy in blood in search of his son. The only way to rectify this situation was to find the boy first.

Yoda sighed, sitting down on a stone. He was so very tired.

Shadows were lengthening, wrapping the old Masters with their soft folds, but failing to sooth him.

* * *

When the Commander stepped on to the bridge, all officers froze, barely daring to breathe, feeling as if Death itself graced them with its presence. There were no other Force-users among the crew, but that didn't not stop every single officer from feeling small and insignificant before the terrifying power that Vader was not bothering to suppress, even thought he usually spared his subordinates.

"My lord," reflexively swallowed the adjutant, rapidly paling. "We have arrived."

"I know." The calm reply made everyone even more nervous. "Is the shuttle ready?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. I'm going to Tatooine. Reconnaissance party is going with me. Commanding officer is Arrzav Tucker. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir!"

The adjutant hastily gave the necessary orders, not taking his eyes from Vader's back.

The Sith was walking away with measured steps, taking the terror enveloping the man like a cloud with him. Everyone was silent, waiting for the Commander's departure, and only when the shuttle took off the crew finally relaxed in relief.

"What the hell just happened?" the adjutant croaked, wiping his face and neck with a snow-white handkerchief. His question was met with silence.

* * *

Once upon a time Anakin Skywalker made a decision to never return to the planet he was born on. He never associated Tatooine with any warm feelings; this planet held only hate, rage and pain for him. He didn't want to return to a place where he was a slave.

And now Vader was doing exactly that.

The Force was leading him forward, showing him the way. When Vader emerged from the shuttle and looked around, he wasn't even surprised to find himself in a place he at one time had nightmares about. Lars homestead...

Sith tsked and shook his head. But of course. Kenobi was so predictable. And, at the same time, so very difficult to predict. However, there was something marring the entire landscape, giving it a very surreal look.

A Krayt dragon.

An ugly carcass, huge and already starting to decay under the heat of two scorching suns of Tatooine, was lying near the house. Vader came closer, regarding it with curiosity and not a little wonder. The more details he noticed, the more perplexed he became.

All the wounds were inflicted by a lightsaber which left some very distinctive and easily-recognizable traces. The beast's head was cut off and dragged away from the body for about a step, its jaws all torn up, like the animal tried to eat a saber and naturally choked on it instead, which was supported by a telltale sign of a best's neck turned into mincemeat. Its side reminded Vader of Grievous' victims – nothing but chunks of flesh, artistically scattered around. Someone clearly took pains to carve deep into the dragon's belly, removing the flesh and then cutting it up into tinier and more manageable pieces. The reason for that was also clear - this _someone_ was trying to get to the pearl, often found in the stomachs of Krayt dragons.

And apparently he was successful in this venture, judging by the state of the aforementioned stomach which was practically turned inside out and mercilessly disemboweled.

Scouts from Vader's team, meanwhile, spread out throughout the area, carefully examining anything and everything on their way. If there were any leads to be found, this group, composed of the most experienced, loyal to him personally and not afraid of anyone or anything professionals, would find them.

With a shrug, Vader entered the house, looking around. Oddly enough, he wasn't feeling any need to hurry. The Force was whispering to him, signaling that this delay was important.

Walking through the premises, Vader pushed another door open and paused.

It was a small room with bare walls, small child-sized bed, a mat and a wardrobe. And one single holoimage in a simple frame, standing on the table.

He carefully picked it up.

A little blond boy with incredibly blue eyes, dressed in simple farmer clothing, was holding a cake with four candles and smiling a happy, sunny smile, ready to blow them. Vader was able to discern the inscription on the cake: "Happy Birthday, Luke!"

"Luke..."

He gently put the frame back, feeling his hands curl into fists.

Luke. At least now he knew his son's name and what the boy looked like.

His son was practically his copy in looks, taking only a few small features from Padmé: the boy had a slightly different shape of the eyes and a little more full lips. As for the rest... He had Vader's high cheekbones, his blond hair - still straight, but soon they'd start to curl, his golden skin of a native from Tatooine, his dimple on a chin. And his bright blue eyes which Padmé once admired so.

Sharply exhaling, the Sith closed his eyes, trying to calm down, refusing to allow the churning rage rule him, terribly afraid that he'd miss something important or destroy something precious. Only then he finally realized the true importance of this control his Master liked to preach him of.

After a last look around the room, Vader grabbed a frame, stormed out of the house and started barking orders to his comlink. He would find his son even if it meant turning the planet inside out and drowning it in blood. And then he would take care of those who decided it was a good idea to kidnap the boy from the Dark Lord of the Sith - they would beg him for a quick and painless death.

Oh, yes, they would beg.

* * *

Palpatine was intently scrutinizing the flow of the Force, trying to understand what happened. He felt the echo of his apprentice's rage, scalding but focused. Something happened.

The old Sith looked at the pattern changing in front of him with a puzzled frown. Connections, solid and deeply entrenched until recently, were breaking, old threads were ripping, and everything was changing. And all of this started with the galaxy-wide cry of some unknown yet obviously talented Force-user.

"Put me through to Lord Vader. Immediately."

* * *

A small, but very fast yacht was speeding through hyperspace, carrying an incredibly valuable cargo. A tall heavily-tattooed man sitting in the pilot's seat shook his head, still amazed that everything worked out that well.

A small and clearly heavy metallic pyramid covered with strange symbols, standing nearby on a special stand, flickered, letting out a transparent figure, glowing with blue light.

"Master. It's done."

"Good. Let me see him."

The man got up, picked up the pyramid and walked to the couch with an unconscious little boy laying on it.

"Put my holocron here. You can go."

The man went back to the pilot's seat, immersing himself in calculating the route, and the ghost bent over the child, moving a transparent hand over his lax body.

"You're beautiful..." he murmured. "My future apprentice. The one who'll raise the Order from the ruins." The ghost straightened, giving the pilot a strange look full of frustration and disdain, then turned back to the child. "Yes. You're definitely a lot better than him."


	6. The (in)finite universe

**PART 5. The (in)finite universe.**

It was actually really funny how it took being kicked off to another world and reborn into another body for him to realize that Universe possessed a wicked sense of humor. Very convoluted and warped one, with a lot of inside jokes, but still.

Dying and being reborn was worth it if only to be able to comprehend Einstein's genius when he said: "Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe."

Yes, it was necessary to be reborn in order to understand this sacramental truth in all of its beauty and to realize that it applied not only to humans.

The rest of the races were also susceptible to it. Including the Sith.

* * *

Luke was bouncing with impatience, almost dancing on the hot sand. Father was close. The boy felt it very clearly: soon they'd see each other again.

It was such a strange and startling feeling. He was in late thirties when he died, but now he felt like an actual five-year boy, waiting to meet the father he had never seen before, but whom he dreamed about. Mind of an adult, damaged and warped by physical and mental rebirth, became intricately intertwined with the instincts inherent in the majority of all sentient and non-sentient beings – the need for protection from blood relatives, desire for security, love and companionship. Feeling the connection to the great ocean of the Force, that had been dormant for so long, flare up even for a shortest moment had been glorious. It also threatened to drive his already fragile after everything that happened on that day psyche into shock.

Now, after calming down from the feverish haste to get the pearl, Luke could grudgingly admit that it was still worth it. He was able to touch Vader's mind for just a millisecond, but it was enough to nurture a firm conviction that the man was really his father. Just his and no one else's.

His **father**.

The man was tremendously powerful, very intelligent, violent and driven, but, at the same time, could be strangely soft towards the select few. Luke himself didn't understand how he was able to perceive all of this, but didn't doubt the validity of what his senses told him.

And now Luke was restlessly pacing up and down, looking at the sky every few minutes and feeling increasingly more nervous. It felt like something strange was coming, a wave, disturbing the calm waters, unexpected and unanticipated, completely out of nowhere, and all he could do was wait. He couldn't get the vague foreboding sensation out of his head, which only fed his already growing worry.

Luke looked around one more time, but no one was sneaking on him from behind or running at him screaming murder with weapons drawn.

"Don't tell me it's going to be terrible news after all?" muttered Luke to himself despondently, clutching his bag closer. The lightsaber was stuffed at the very bottom, but the boy could still feel its warm and comforting presence even through the many layers of fabric.

The feeling of approaching danger grew, but Luke was starting to lose patience. After a few minutes of nothing happening he was tempted to attribute it to his own imagination and lack of experience dealing with Force premonitions. All of his anxiousness, however, was immediately blown away by the wave of approval and encouragement, send to him from somewhere far away.

Luke started, reflexively pressing his hands to his chest. "Amazing..." he gasped.

Which was why the sudden scrunch of sand behind him took the boy by surprise, making him jump up as if stung and turn around. He had a terrible feeling that those nightmarish news he frightened his uncle with just gained flesh and blood.

Before him stood a burly tattooed man in a strange garb with armor elements, build like a Terminator and, from the look of his incredibly ugly mug with the equally ugly grin spreading upon said mug, not overburdened with brains.

It was not the saber hanging from the man's belt that scared Luke out of his wits, and not even the odd round metallic _thing_ the size of an orange and covered with strange symbols that made Luke's eyes ache and water after he tried to get a better look at it.

What really scared him was that Luke couldn't sense his assailant.

At all.

He could feel everything else around him in the Force, but not the man. It was as if he was not even there.

The man grinned, surveyed Luke from head to foot with a look of a lucky customer that found a priceless treasure in a trashcan totally free of charge, and quickly hit the boy's neck with the sharp of the hand, when the latter tried to take off.

And Luke went out like a light.

* * *

As soon as the hologram of an Emperor formed Vader got down on one knee, bowing his head.

"Get up, Lord Vader."

"Master."

Vader straightened and froze still, his head slightly tilted to one shoulder. Palpatine was silent, looking searchingly at his apprentice. Through the bond the Emperor could feel the echoes of terrible excitement and steely determination against the background of wrath and fury, if only slightly dimmed in intensity. It was as if the flames of Mustafar were gearing up to break away from the broken body of the man they once tried to burn to crisp.

Vader sighed deeply, cracking the knuckles of his prosthesis. The feeling of impending volcano eruption intensified.

"Master. How and when did you learn that Padmé died?"

* * *

Luke looked at his captor angrily, clutching his bag closer. Only the soothing warmth, emanating from a saber, prevented him from breaking down and giving way to the overwhelming rage, boiling inside of him. Squeezing the bag, the boy attempted to remained calm and clearheaded, understanding perfectly well, that trying to attack his kidnapper in order to escape right now would be pointless.

The tattooed sleazebag, grinning like a dog and showing off his strong white teeth, noisily slurped his caf, absolutely not perceiving the almost snarling boy curled up on the couch as a threat. After finishing his drink the man stood up and pointed to the table next to the sofa. "Eat. Then Master will talk to you." And calmly turned away, walking to the pilot's seat. Luke watched him suspiciously and then sharply closed his eyes, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself down somehow.

Gradually Luke's breathing evened out and a wave of blinding fury subsided, finally allowing him to start making sense of what happened.

The boy moved closer to the table and inspected a cup of water and a standard C-ration, tasteless, but nutritious and widely-spread throughout the whole galaxy, lying on it with suspicious eyes. Sniffing the water, he carefully dipped his finger in the cup and licked it.

It seemed to be just water. The ration was also sealed.

His stomach suddenly growled, making Luke grit his teeth with renewed anger. He had a solid meal just before the kidnapping, so... they've been travelling long enough for him to digest everything he ate before. That was bad. It meant that they could be literally anywhere.

Although, distance supposedly didn't matter to the Force... If he remembered correctly in the movies Vader and original Luke felt each other's presence even when they were at the opposite ends of the galaxy. Not to mention the fact that he himself was able to call his father! So what was stopping him from doing the same thing now? Luke just needed to focus, call father through the Force, wait for Vader's arrival and then have fun watching the Dark Lord of the Sith educate the guilty parties about the dangers of abducting children!

Becoming much more cheerful, Luke furtively craned his neck, confirming that the man was indeed completely wrapped in the piloting, smiled a mean little smile and closed his eyes, concentrating.

…And nothing happened.

He tried again. And again. And again.

Nothing. Just strange emptiness.

Luke opened his eyes, pushed away his bag, unclenching with some effort his cramped fingers, took the ration, opened it and began to mechanically chew, washing down the tasteless contents with water.

He couldn't feel the Force. At all. Of course less than a day have passed since he touched the Force for the first time, but it was more than enough to understand the huge difference between being able to feel it in full and being cut off from it.

Glumly swallowing the last of the ration, Luke grabbed his bag again, desperately trying not to panic.

Something was blocking his connection to the Force and he needed to figure out exactly how it was done. Adjusting his pant leg and checking for a hidden blade, secured to the shin, the boy straightened up, carefully looking around for clues.

What did he know about the ways to block the Force? There were places in the galaxy where there was no Force at all. Some crafty practitioners could hide their presence in the Force and hide others, just as Kenobi done. Maybe that's what his kidnapper was doing? Dubiously glancing toward the makeshift cabin, Luke shook his head, uncertain. Somehow, he found it hard to believe. What else was there? Ysalamiri - the weird hairy lizards were natural jamming generators, so to speak.

Hmmm... The room he was in had a table, two chairs, a sofa he was sitting on, one small table, two small doors, probably to a pantry or something, a crate, a shelf with pyramid and a sphere on a stand, a dashboard, a chair and the man sitting in that chair.

No lizards.

So that option was also off the menu.

Luke frowned, taking a second, more careful look at the shelf and, more specifically, at the black and gold pyramid sitting there.

It was small, maybe ten or twelve centimeters in height, but seemingly heavy, probably made of metal and stone, and covered from top to bottom with strange symbols, looking at which made Luke's eyes tear and ache. The sigh of them stirred something in his memory, a vague impression of seeing it somewhere before, but no matter how hard Luke tried, he couldn't remember the details.

Frustrated, he shifted his gaze to the silver sphere laying on a stand. It looked like someone tried to peel it like an orange, but changed their mind halfway through – it was smooth at the top and covered with the same unfamiliar symbols as the pyramid on the bottom. It was also pulsing with red light.

Was it activated? Was it working?

Luke absently wondered if there were devices out there that could create some kind of a dead zone in the Force artificially and what would be their range if they actually existed.

He was almost ready to get down and try to get to the suspicious sphere when suddenly it came to him. He froze in shock, staring at the pyramid, lines from the article on the "Star Wars" universe, which he had once read, running through his mind.

A holocron. That's what it was.

A Sith holocron even.

An artifact, containing someone's spirit. Or was it just the impression, the copy of someone's memory or knowledge? And why didn't this spirit get out yet?

The boy shrank back into the sofa. The situation was worse than he thought. Luke carefully peered at his kidnapper, examining him from head to toe. The man was singing something under his breath, his hands flying over the controls. There was nothing in his attitude or appearance that suggested him being anything other than a mercenary, let alone a Sith.

The ship trembled. It seemed they were finally entering the atmosphere.

Luke gritted his teeth, fighting not to succumb to the mounting tension and hysteria from the sheer uncertainty of the situation.

The ship shuddered one more time and the engines died down.

They arrived.

The man got up from the pilot's seat, stretched, flexing his huge muscles, and then cheerfully barked at Luke "Rise and shine, boy! We have arrived! Welcome to your new home!"

"New home?" Luke hissed through clenched teeth, tensing up. "I was quite satisfied with the old one! Get me back!"

The man guffawed, slapping his hands on his thighs. "Wow, lad! Get him back, he says!" He chortled again, and then suddenly looked at Luke with calm, cold eyes. "No. And it's not up for a discussion!"

And then Luke experienced what it was like when someone grabbed you by the collar and carried you away under their arm like a kitten - unpleasant and humiliating. Especially if there was absolutely nothing you could do against it.

* * *

Vader sat in the meditation chamber, which was just finished being repaired, thinking about what his master told him.

A tracker... A simple tracker, only capable of signaling whether the marked subject was dead or alive. A tracker, placed on his wife one year before the tragedy, one of the many the then Chancellor placed on his rivals and allies just in case.

"Executor" hung in orbit, thoroughly unnerving Tatooine inhabitants.

The investigation was well under way, the operatives knew their job perfectly well, sifting through scant information and carefully examining all the remaining traces of the kidnapping. All the data received so far had been pretty disappointing, but Vader kept his temper in line, not allowing himself to blow up at his subordinates. A picture of his son, hanging at the moment in the air in front of his face, was helping him with that immensely.

Vader even removed his helmet, wanting to look at his son's picture with his own eyes and not through the mask visors.

The kid was smiling happily and carefree as only very small children and lovers completely smitten with each other could, reminding Vader of the past. Had he been able to smile like that once too? That was very hard to believe...

His childhood was not a happy one, and teenage years didn't bring much improvement. It was only when he realized that his feelings for Padmé were not one-sided… When he learned that she was pregnant, that they'd have a child soon...

Yes, he had been probably smiling just like that in those moments.

Suddenly his communicator beeped. Vader pushed the button, not looking away from the photo. "I'm listening."

"My lord. We found the boy's guardians - Owen Lars and Beru Lars. They were brought on board."

"Guide them to my chambers." Mechanical fingers gently grasped the corner of the frame. "Politely."

"Yes, my lord!"

Vader could tell that the boy in the picture was really happy. So he would be lenient.

* * *

Owen was silently examining the huge room, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming horror. He didn't need to be a Force-sensitive to be one hundred percent sure that it actually would be a horror.

Lars shivered, remembering Anakin's temper. He already had an attitude even then, much less now. Despite living on Tatooine, Owen still followed the news, especially lately. Over the past day since their escape from the farm he had heard plenty of interesting details concerning the Commander; the rumors didn't left Beru unaffected either. All that Owen could do now was to behave as Luke advised - he didn't want to hurt the boy with his death.

The door slid open and Vader stormed into the office, forcing the military officers stationed there to stand at attention barely breathing. Beru completely frozen and Owen was only one step behind her, feeling as if he was looking right into the jaws of a Krayt dragon again, only this time there was no Luke with his flashy lightsaber to save him from certain demise.

* * *

Palpatine massaged his temples, trying to relax and digest the news dumped on him by his apprentice. To say that the old Sith was shocked would have been an understatement.

No wonder he had the feeling that he was missing something very important all this time! And now the consequences were staring at him right in the face. Thank the Force that these consequences resurfaced now and not, say, twenty years later. That would have been an unmitigated disaster.

The news _were_ amazing. Stunning even. Admittedly, when it came to Vader, everything tended to become like that. Stunning. After all, he was the Chosen One, sarlacc take him! On the other hand, sarlacc probably didn't deserve the fate to die of indigestion, choking on the resident miracle of the Force.

However, jokes aside, the son of Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala Naberrie survived. Survived and lived to almost five years – such a twist of fate! - on Tatooine. All this time he was practically under their noses.

However, this was the only good news. Someone kidnapped the child and then managed to hide him in the Force from the searching eyes of furious Vader. This level of displayed skills and knowledge suggested someone smart and in all likelihood Force-sensitive.

Search teams were still sifting through Tatooine with a fine sieve, but found no new leads. Vader was furious, of course, but still somehow managing to keep a lid on his temper, which was surprising – was it possible that Plagueis' educational methods finally took effect?

The boy needed to be found. It was not just the fact that he was another miracle, a treasure of incredible value – a Force-sensitive child of another Force-user! Emperor dreamily rolled his eyes, guestimating the glorious storm that would rise after releasing this information to the public.

There was only one little problem. Vader had just stabilized. Palpatine had to work hard to help his apprentice to find an anchor and bring his psyche, shattered by the "fall", into an adequate condition, and if the current situation caused his idiot pupil to slip again... Palpatine would still find use for him, of course, but in the best case scenario he would become a blunt weapon of mass destruction, a second coming of Malak – a monster without any inhibitions, morals or control.

And if it happened...

Vader's value would be reduced to zero. And this was unacceptable.

* * *

Vader sat in a chair, staring at his half-brother and his wife, Beru Lars. She was young and pretty - not canonically beautiful, but nice and homely. He could feel her anxiety, her fear of him, Vader, which was only natural, her curiosity and concern for the child. She was very worried, but trying to control herself.

As for Owen... The man was looking at Vader and comparing him with someone. Like his wife, he was very apprehensive, but underlying that he felt a mix of strangely amused and resigned. As if he recently experienced an incredibly strong shock and still didn't recover from it all.

He looked as if he knew who was in front of him.

 **Hello, Anakin.**

Lars looked straight into his eyes, hidden by a mask, and Vader easily read the greeting, hanging like a banner in the forefront of his mind.

"Everyone out. Captain. Take sae * Lars to the lounge."

"Yes, my lord!"

Beru looked helplessly at her husband, but Owen just waved his hand. "Go, Beru."

As soon as the door closed behind her Owen took a deep breath and smiled weakly. "Hello, Anakin."

Vader clenched his fists, frozen. Owen looked determined, but shaken, as if he himself couldn't believe that he just said that.

"How did you..."

"Your son told me."

"What?!"

* * *

Breha frowned, reading the report provided by a specifically hired independent expert. It took the queen some work to hire this Kaminoan: she had to involve some very specific acquaintances, write off some debts, open her purse and ensure compete privacy.

It took a lot of effort, but it was worth it.

Having received the first parcel with drugs to suppress Force sensitivity, they naturally had to test everything first, not wanting to poison their child with who knew what. The tests and studies clearly showed that these drugs would work. But Breha still couldn't get the words of the specialist about possible side effects and the fact that it was unknown how they would affect the child's body out of her mind.

They employed professionals to investigate the problem. And they figured it out, though it took six months and a lot of money. Reading the report, both her and Bail felt relieved and alarmed.

As it turned out, there really was a side effect.

Breha couldn't tell if it was accidental or intentional, but drugs that were sent to them... They didn't just somehow narrow the connection between the midichlorians and their host, no, they blocked it completely. And considering that the host was a child, whose connection to the Force was only starting to properly develop it was no wonder there were some curious side-effects the royal couple didn't know whether to laugh or cry about.

Leia would never be able to regain her connection with midichlorians.

Never ever.

The most she would be able to recover of her abilities in the very best of circumstances was sensitivity towards a single Force-user she felt particularly strong about, someone who would "resonate" with her.

Drugs already started taking effect on the girl. She stopped perceiving other people's emotions and the ability to anticipate their intentions also vanished. Leia remained an incredibly well developed child with excellent analytical skills, a lively mind and a vivid imagination, but nothing further – she would never be truly extraordinary anymore.

Breha shook her head. The mixture of medications and psychological treatment had the intended effect, but the queen for some reason didn't feel much joy regarding it.

Perhaps with correctly picked marriage partner her daughter's repressed abilities could be reawaken in her children, but there was no guarantee. The odds were vanishingly small, if not nonexistent altogether. And now Breha couldn't decide what to do with her conflicting emotions. On one hand she was glad that they managed to protect their daughter from the Emperor and the Inquisitors, albeit in such a radical way. On the other... Who would refuse to improve their "breeding"? To make their descendants stronger, to give them the opportunity to outstrip their competitors and to crush their enemies?

All aristocratic houses engaged in linebreeding. And each of them made at least one attempt to get a Force-sensitive in their ranks. Yes, all of these attempts had been unsuccessful, but still. And now... Now they were forced to abandon such an opportunity! But there was no other way out. Force forbid someone like Vader would sniff out Leia's strength in the Force. The consequences of such a turn of events were too terrible to imagine!

However, nothing was stopping the queen from laying the groundwork for the future possibilities.

"Start searching for a suitable partner for conception."

"It will be a long time" the doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"It doesn't matter. We've got at least ten years. Even if the chance is vanishingly small, it cannot be overlooked."

* * *

"Five years ago Kenobi knocked at our door" started Lars, looking at Vader, frozen like a statue, with quiet sympathy. Owen was in a strange state. On one hand the beginning of the conversation went just fine based on the fact that everyone was still alive. On the other... who knew how Skywalker would react when he finally had the time to properly digest the news being dumped on him. But there was no alternative. Luke gave him an extremely valuable piece of advice and Owen intended to follow it to the bitter end - do not lie, the boy said to him, do not withhold information, just tell everything as it is. "He brought the news of Anakin Skywalker's death as well as the baby. His son."

Vader's hands convulsively clenched into fists, but he remained silent, eagerly listening to the details of what happened.

"He also said that Anakin, my half-brother, was killed by Darth Vader and that his child, the Force-sensitive child, was in danger. I threw him out, banning him from approaching the house and making any contact with Luke. I didn't want the Jedi to fuck up yet another life with their preaching."

Lars sighed, gathering his thoughts, Vader still silent. Sith sensed that his half-brother was telling the truth, and didn't want to interrupt Owen. He'd listen, and then ask questions.

"Everything was fine... until recently. I didn't say anything to the kid, mostly because I didn't have much to tell in the first place and didn't trust Kenobi. Yes, everything was fine..."

"What happened?" quietly asked Vader, giving Lars a start of surprise.

The man's answer hit the Sith like a ton of bricks. "We were attacked by a Krayt dragon and Luke killed the beast."

Vader just looked at Lars, trying to somehow digest this statement. Owen stared back, honest and open, waiting for the reaction to his words. Silence filled the room.

Finally, Vader unfroze.

"A Krayt dragon?"

"Yes."

"Right near the house?"

"Nearly."

"And Luke killed it..."

"Exactly."

"A child not even five years old!" exploded Vader.

Owen threw up his hands. "What can I say, he clearly takes after you!"

Vader, angry and on the verge of violence, stiffened and slowly settled back into the chair. "What is he like?" he asked in a hollow voice betraying a clearly distinguishable longing.

Owen smiled weakly. "He's incredible. Very clever, very mature. Mischievous. Likes catching skers bare-handed. Very hard to tear away from the speeder. Could fix anything that catches his eye, or ruin it beyond repair. Doesn't listen to anyone and it's completely impossible to get him to do something that he doesn't like. Very strong..."

Vader thoughtfully looked at the man sharing his memories and experiences, and felt almost bursting with pain and jealousy. Owen was beside his son all this time, Owen raised his baby, Owen saw his first steps - and not him. Something dark and heavy burned inside his chest, itching to break loose.

"Why did you leave?" snapped the Sith Lord.

Owen absently shrugged. "Luke kicked us out."

"What do you mean?" sharply questioned Vader, finally distracted from his dangerous mood.

"It was a miracle we survived when the dragon attacked. The boy had a lightsaber with him. I have no idea how he got his hands on it," Owen hastened to answer the unasked question, "but I can guess."

"Kenobi" Vader spat out with hatred.

Lars nodded. "Most likely. We were almost home from a trip to repair some moisture traps when the kid started to get nervous. We picked up the pace, but then the dune just exploded. I remember a huge open maw full of teeth rushing at us..." Owen shuddered.

"So, what happened next?" urged Vader.

"Next? Next Luke threw the activated saber into the dragon's throat and the beast naturally choked on plasma blade."

"I see…"

Lars just made a helpless gesture. Vader chuckled to himself. It seemed that despite everything his son had turned out okay, if he was already killing dragons at five.

"And then what?"

"And then Luke forced me to find a speeder to drag the carcass home."

"Whatever for?"

"Are you asking me?" inquired Owen indignantly. "He said that it was his first trophy and that we won't need meat anymore and that he'll hang the head and the claws on the wall, skin the beast's hide and sew himself a jacket from it.

"And you actually listened to him?"

"You know, Anakin", said Owen softly, "it was easier to bring a speeder and drag the carcass home than to say "no" because I had a feeling that if I refused, in the end I would have been the one dragging this fucking dragon on my back."

Vader silently looked at his half-brother for a few long moments and then threw his head back and burst out laughing - for the first time in many, many years.

Lars sighed. "I'm telling you, that boy clearly takes after you. "

"So why did you leave?" gently asked Vader after finally calming down.

Lars hesitated, trying to find the right words.

"The kid was running circles around the carcass, poking it with a knife... and then he suddenly went still, eyes glazing over. It looked strange. Unnatural even" Owen signed "as if he was seeing something that I simply couldn't perceive."

"Visions..." whispered Vader, shocked. Lars shrugged.

"Probably. He suddenly began to rush about, told us to get out, otherwise we'll die, and that he didn't want to bury us yet. He said he managed to reach you, to call you, his father, to him."

"How..."

"I don't know," Owen cut him off, "but Luke knows that you are his father. That Lord Vader, once called Anakin Skywalker, is his father. He was absolutely sure of it... and very proud. I saw it."

Vader closed his eyes, trying to recollect himself. The news raining down on him felt like a rockfall, and each subsequent "block" was larger than the previous one.

"And ..." Lars remembered. "Luke said that when he got scared and called you, something broke around him. Something that prevented him from reaching you before. "

"Kenobi!" Vader growled, clenching his fist. "He placed a barrier around my son, the bastard!"

The table shook, making Lars throw him a cautious look. The Lord shook his head, calming down.

"Is there something else?"

"Yes. Take the dragon's head and claws. Otherwise, Luke will make a mince out of us all, lock, stock and barrel." Despite the mask, Lars perfectly understood the incredulous silence that hung in the air. "No. I'm not exaggerating. Your son takes after you. In everything. So find him until he puts the entire galaxy into a tizz, and parent him yourself. I don't have the stomach for it."

* * *

Beru jumped up when her husband entered the room, accompanied by a very polite officer.

"Come on, Beru," he said. "They'll take us home."

Vader watched the shuttle leave and then returned to his quarters. He needed to carefully consider all that he heard today. Soon the captain will provide a report - he already mentioned that there was some news, which was good. And somebody would have to drag the remains of the Krayt dragon from the farm.

Well done, son! He obviously tried to reach the pearl... and succeeded at it, apparently!

A satisfied smile spread across his pale lips. Vader was nearly bursting with pride. His kid really took after him! And not only in appearance.

The team gingerly regarded their Lord marching along the corridor, sighing with relief as he passed by. The Commander was clearly in a good mood. The only question occupying their minds was – how long would it last?

* * *

Angrily hissing at the impassive thug, Luke could only open his eyes wide as the holocron began to shine and a glowing bluish silhouette of a tall white-skinned zabrak with scarlet eyes, covered with tattoos, appeared before him.

"Hello, my apprentice!" The ghost smiled, carefully observing the true gift of the Force that had fallen into his lap. The kid was shining like a supernova, delighting his eyes with the incredibly bright iridescence of his aura. The true treasure... untrained, strong and leaning towards the Dark and the Light side both at the same time! Amazing! And this miracle he found on some bedraggled planet with practically no inhabitants!

Despite all his foresight abilities and a sharp mind Akaadi, who had been languishing in a holocron for many years, lost sight of one nuance.

There was no such thing as abandoned treasure.

A/N: * Sae - polite address (author's idea.)


	7. I will fear no evil

**PART 6. I will fear no evil**

Akaadi folded his arms over his chest and stared thoughtfully at the boy who was depicting holy innocence, looking at him with wide blue eyes.

The situation he found himself in was out of the ordinary, and that was saying it gently!

As it turned out, the kid absolutely did not want to obey the teacher he so suddenly found, fouling all of the attempts to reach some kind of cease-fire at every step.

At their first meeting Akaadi confronted the child with a fait accompli, forcing him to accept his own kidnapping and colorfully outlining the prospects for apprenticeship to sweeten the deal.

The kid listened attentively to the lengthy speech and quietly retorted back: "They'll be looking for me."

"Who?" Maynard laughed contemptuously, folding his arms across his chest. "Farmers? Very funny!"

"I **warned** you" glared the boy.

A month passed since then. For Akaadi it was a month of constant tension, trying to drive as much knowledge into his pupil's head as possible, and for Maynard, whom Luke hated to the marrow of his bones, it was a month of constant hassling.

They started with the simplest things - feeling the Force and learning how to direct it.

After listening to the instructions, Luke nodded, sat back and concentrated. Akaadi, pacing around the hall, carefully watched his student's attempts. The ghost was not afraid that someone would find them - the base, located deep in the thickness of the rock, was created specifically to hide everything happening inside from any kind of search through the Force.

How fortunate that it was never discovered by anyone else, though it stood empty – empty of absolutely everything – for at least a century after its inhabitants left. Akaadi had to let Maynard uncover some caches to insure at least some comfort. He himself obviously didn't care for it and Maynard was used to living in harsh conditions, like every mercenary, but a child...

A child required investments, especially a gifted child who would achieve greatness one day!

Looking at the said child's attempts to feel the notorious flow of the Force, Maynard came closer, scoffing scornfully. The next moment his ankle twisted. Bending himself in two, the man managed to land on all fours instead of face-planting into the floor, while Luke gleefully laughed, jumping up and down: "I finally did it!"

Akaadi then made the mistake of saying nothing - or rather, of praising the diligent child aloud: "Good boy! Keep it up!"

It took some time for the ghost to realize that the kid took his praise as a direct and unequivocal guide to action.

* * *

During the coming days Luke played a lot of dirty tricks on the mercenary, but didn't cross the line. He knew perfectly well that Maynard, if he wished, could easily make his life hell. Only the fact that there was no direct order from Akaadi and that Luke only performed all his little tricks in the ghost's presence prevented the mercenary from physically manhandling the boy.

Of course, none of it was a coincidence.

The boy knew very well that Akaadi was his immediate and only defense against Maynard.

* * *

Maynard watched the struggling boy with heavy eyes. The mercenary perfectly understood that he found the real enemy in the kid, not making any allowances for age. For some strange reason, the boy did not perceive the ghost, who actually organized the abduction, negatively. He grumbled, was angry, but did not immediately reject Akaadi or his teachings.

Maynard, on the other hand, became the recipient of Luke's instant and burning hatred.

Starting with an ordinary foot sweep, during the next month Luke acquired a real taste for playing humiliating pranks on the mercenary. A few days after the first successful attempt, the boy caught the distracted man again, and in the most banal way: the rope lying on the floor suddenly rose into the air and hung parallel to the floor (it rose only a few centimeters up, but it was enough), and Maynard, tripping over it, almost hit his head with the table's corner, barely putting his hands under him to cushion the fall in time.

Naturally, it was impossible to prove the boy's guilt, so the man simply resolved to keep his eyes open. As they say, who is forewarned...

However, as it turned out, the active and mischievous child possessed incredible patience. He waited two weeks before striking again.

Akaadi, delighted with the success of the student, whom he so unexpectedly sensed when he was outside the holocron, decided to show the child the art of manipulating small objects, or, in other words, levitation.

Having circled Luke himself and a few other items of spare furnishings on the improvised carousel, Akaadi drew out an enthusiastic cry from the child who immediately expressed his wish to learn how to do the same. It should have raised a red flag when Luke brought his favorite toy - a small sharp-nosed fighter plane, but...

Initially, the toy's flying was all wonky and askew, Luke managing to lift it in the air, but only just. However, he never lacked persistence, and two days later the fighter plane could already do circles, and three more days after that the boy upgraded to doing aerobatics maneuvers.

Maynard just snorted and turned away - and the pointed nose of a fighter plane almost sliced his carotid artery open then and there. The man managed to react in time, starting back from the toy, and it rushed past, only grazing his throat with its wings.

Akaadi just pursed his lips, but said nothing, trying to find a solution to a difficult problem.

 **Punishment**.

Of course he could just pick a traditional punishment, used by the Sith, who thought that any problem could be solved with a judicious application of Force lightning. But the easiest way did not always mean the best, and Akaadi, although he became a Sith, was brought up by the Jedi, and the idea of torturing the child into compliance was not appealing to him in the slightest.

Not out of pity, no, the Force ghost long ago lost the capacity for it, but from banal calculation. The child had to completely trust him instead of just waiting for the opportune moment to finish him off. Bain's path did not rouse in the old zabrak anything aside from disgust and absolute contempt for such degradation.

In addition, Akaadi was rightfully proud of his diplomatic skills, he was accustomed to persuading everyone to his side with words, instead of forcing them, and he preferred various Force techniques, in which he was a true master, to crude physical abuse, so simply flogging a student meant confessing his own impotence.

Moreover, as far as he has already managed to understand, Luke did not tolerate any pressure, immediately starting to buckle simply out of principle. All of which left him with only one possible solution to this dilemma.

"Well," zabrak smiled, folding his arms on his armored chest. "I see that you are very clever. We will complicate your task. Maynard!"

"Yes?" lazily responded the mercenary, glaring at a small monster pretending to be a boy.

"Take the artifact and carry it with you always, without taking it off."

Maynard laughed, Luke scowled and Akaadi after a few moments graciously explained the underlying reason for this decision. "The artifact blocks the Force at a distance of a meter from the carrier. So now all your accidents… will stop happening."

Luke narrowed his eyes, examining the self-satisfied man, who was putting a metal "orange", once again starting to pulsate with a scarlet light, on his belt.

"Completely?" he clarified, drilling the artifact with his eyes.

"Completely. It affects all living and inanimate matter. It is impossible to interact with the Force within the field; it dissipates, so to speak."

"I see. I will take note of this."

Luke pensively stared at the ball hanging on Maynard's belt.

An artifact blocking the Force - in both directions. Creating a blind zone. Nothing could be heard from the inside and nothing could be seen from the outside. Akaadi did not say it out loud, but Luke realized himself that the artifact affected living things and objects differently. He couldn't feel Maynard that time in the desert at all. And then, on the ship, he couldn't call his father. Consequently, the coverage area could probably be varied.

And yet... Just because he couldn't use the Force directly on the man it didn't mean that he won't be able to come up with something else.

* * *

Vader drummed his fingers on the table, forcing a massive piece of expensive and carefully polished iron wood to shake a little.

The adjutant was standing nearby and staring off into the distance, not paying any attention to the shaking. Over the past month Kord had been terrified out of his mind so many times that it felt like his capacity to feel scared just dried up, transforming into a special kind of tranquility born from sheer apathy to one's fate.

Having lived through his Lord's many and varied outbursts of rage and sadistic fury, fortunately not directed at him, the young man felt like he could never be truly scared of anything anymore.

Of course, he was still afraid of his boss, but now it was a reasonable cautiousness instead of pants-wetting terror.

"Is that all?" the aforementioned Lord asked, pushing the datapad with the report aside. Adjutant held out the next datapad. Vader quickly looked through the information and signed, disappointed. "Nothing new."

Sharply rising, the Dark Lord went to a huge painting depicting a landscape with a distant mountain ridge covered in a haze of creeping mist, thin forest and a river, flowing into a small, crystal-clear lake. The Commander froze, staring at the painting, only the twitching fingers of his right hand betraying his impatience and displeasure.

The past month had been very difficult.

Anakin Skywalker had never been patient; he had a very violent, quick temper that the Jedi weren't able to handle correctly. Lord Vader inherited all the bad inclinations of Anakin Skywalker, developing them in a geometric progression. However, unlike the Jedi, the Sith Lord Sidious manages to solve the task of taming his apprentice.

Not immediately, not at once... And not by lecturing, but by physical means. He was able to achieve impressive results during these five years. Now Vader resembled a volcano that erupted from time to time, releasing tension, instead of a geyser with constantly boiling water.

The past month clearly showed that Sidious' apprentice could benefit from the lessons of his old Master. The rigid control of emotions, that the Sith drove into him, proved very useful when the scouts returned, bringing very little useful information in.

They found out that a small shuttle touched down at a far enough distance from the farm - apparently, the obviously experienced pilot was wary of alarming his prey. Then the unknown man went to the farm, where he kidnapped the child, and then returned to the ship and flew off the planet. The investigation was complicated by a number of factors: the desolation of the terrain and the fact that the shuttle landed right in the desert and not in the port worked against them, as well as many other things.

The scouts have literally done a miracle, having squeezed out everything possible from the scanty facts, provided to them. Now they were looking for a shuttle, following some scattered clues. And only the fact that they had any clues at all held Vader from breaking down.

* * *

Sidious slowly kneaded the bridge of his nose with cautious movements of thin fingers. The report hung in the air in front of the Emperor, forcing him to reflect on some extremely interesting topics, namely: his apprentice, finally learning to control himself! Occasionally, of course, but still! This was already a huge achievement!

And given all the surrounding circumstances...

The datapad flew closer, and Palpatine plunged into perusal of the incredibly fascinating report provided by his spy on the "Executor", more resembling a sick fantasy of some low-level action blockbuster producer, permanently living in a state of alcoholic delirium, than a serious document.

* * *

Vader lasted a week. It was incredibly difficult, but he held on, not lashing out at his subordinates and not destroying his meditation chamber. Only droids from the training hall felt the depth of his wraith, but they couldn't tell anyone. When he was once again met with the news of no new clues as to his child's possible whereabouts Anakin's patience finally snapped, after which the Sith came down to the planet himself and fulfilled the walking dream of all of his childhood. And youth. And short adolescence.

He wasn't able to realize this dream before for quite prosaic reasons: as a child he was weak and bound by a slave's collar; during his youth Kenobi was constantly bending his ear, not allowing his soul's noble endeavors come to fruit, and the rest of the Jedi did not fell far behind; and after he became a Sith, Sidious kept him in leading strings with constant training and assignments to destroy his enemies, personal and otherwise.

And now, when he was in the orbit of Tatooine, a place where every kind of filth felt right at home, he finally had an excuse to pay a visit to _someone_.

Lord Vader thought about it, and, well.

Why not?

And then he organized a hunt for slavers, crime dealers and other dregs of society, falling down on his personal shuttle on the planet near Mos Eisley like an avenging angel, and landing on a little platform near Jabba the Hutt's lair.

* * *

With slow deliberation Vader moved along the long corridor leading to the central rooms, where the nasty worm and its cronies were dwelling in. The volley of shots from the blasters was swiftly parried by his lightsaber, after which the Lord went on the offensive.

Taking a deep breath and finally shrugging off the tension, plaguing him for the past weeks, Vader plunged into the carnage with great relish, literally mincing anyone who came to his notice to pieces. Naturally, the Hutt had guards, and even good ones, only their efforts to protect their charge meant absolutely nothing against the Sith Lord.

Vader effortlessly reflected the blaster shots back into the shooters with his lightsaber, squeezing throats, braking bones, crushing innards left and right, soaking the area around him with violent bloodlust, which made the underground shelter residents' limbs collapse and their minds darken.

The air stank of plasma and burning flesh, the sickening smell of blood and innards drifted after the Sith like a living fog of Dagobah. Shouts full of rage, pain and despair, groaning and rattling of the dying ... Vader straightened his shoulders with satisfaction, crunched his neck and smiled a terrible little smile under his mask, gazing at the huge, thick doors leading directly into the Hutt's chambers. Someone was clearly suffering from the extreme case of megalomania...

One lazy movement of the hand - and the doors flew inside, crushing those who hid behind them.

Attempts to resist immediately withered due to the death of those who resisted, but Jabba was no longer in the room - Vader only saw Fortuna's white face, contorted by horror, and the tail, flashing in the closing passage.

"Where do you think you're going?!" hissed the Sith, making a grabbing movement with his hand and pulling the Hutt, bulking and clinging with his short hands to everything he could grab, closer. Fortuna screamed with rage and fired a blaster at their attacker, but it was useless: the Sith parried the shot with his hand, and then sharply clenched his fist, breaking the togruta's vertebrae with a Force grip.

Vader shifted his gaze to the struggling Hutt, howling and swearing, and raised his eyebrows in surprise: an unexpected vision of a short girl, dressed in a scanty outfit of a dancer, successfully killing the slug by strangling him with a chain, suddenly flashed before his eyes.

The Sith snorted approvingly.

"You see, you'll die either way. But not yet. Not until the end of the interrogation."

Having given the necessary orders, Vader waited until the arrival of a squad of storm troopers and investigators, and then returned to the "Executor".

"My lord!" Kord drew himself up, offering the datapad. "We have news."

* * *

Whatever one may say, Akaadi was a true Sith. Spiteful, treacherous and unpredictable. And, in addition, an excellent psychologist.

Why force the apprentice to do something, wasting time and energy on corrections, if there was a much easier solution? A teacher only needed to motivate the student in the right manner, and the latter would lay himself out, trying to reach the goal.

The situation now resembled a famous saying: "So near and yet so far."

Yes, Luke couldn't complain about the lack of ideas; yes, he immediately came up with a bunch of ways to get to the enemy despite the artifact; yes, all of them were doable by a child.

On one condition - the availability of necessary resources.

The base on which they lived was empty. And not in the sense of absence of other living inhabitants or comfort, but in the truest sense. There were walls, floor, ceiling, doors and ... that was, basically, it. Those who cleaned out the base tore everything they could, except for a few ultrasonic and water fresheners, toilets, three drawers, which Luke and Maynard used as beds, one hefty table made of metal, heavy and unwieldy, six chairs (one rickety), a large refrigerator, rated for a squadron or even a regiment, and three built-in wardrobes, that someone removed the doors from.

And that was all.

Everything necessary for living they had to buy or acquire by other and less legal means. Akaadi could only pensively scratch his horns after inspecting the base, completely gutted from anything useful by unknown enthusiasts. According to him it was ready to accept new inhabitants and was packed to the brim with food, weapons and other things, so it was a mystery who and when did the deed. The only thing comforting him was the fact that it was obviously done during Revan's lifetime, not later.

Maynard was ordered by Akaadi to buy food, some clothes, some dishes and some simple droids for cleaning, bed sets and blankets.

Everything except food was in small quantities.

Therefore, there was nothing extra on the base, only necessities; nothing to hurl at the brazenly grinning mercenary, and the kitchen with lots of knives and other tableware was out of bounds for the child, which was enforced by Akaadi and Maynard both.

Of course, Luke had a small knife, which he continued to wear on his shin, but this was the weapon of the last resort, and Skywalker did not want to reveal it yet. This also pertained to the lightsaber - it was still lying inside the bag, which the boy demonstratively emptied out from all his meager possessions.

He rarely had the opportunity to touch his father's saber: Akaadi, as befits a battlemaster and strict teacher with considerable experience, professed the principle of loading the apprentice with work up to the gills, so that the latter won't have any free time left.

One absolutely cannot allow the child to kick around doing nothing - who knew what kind of mischief he would come up with. Especially since Akaadi was interested in how the kid would try to accomplish his revenge against Maynard in such conditions.

* * *

Kenobi stretched with a sigh, turning to the Togruta. Deep joint meditation gave results, just not quite the ones they hoped for. They weren't able to find Luke – the child was hidden from the search through the Force, probably staying in some kind of hide-out, specifically created in order to hide those sensitive to the Force.

The kid was still alive and it was the only thing they were able to ascertain, but that was still better than nothing. All hope was not lost. Sooner or later the child will be released from whatever was concealing his presence, and then they would be able to pinpoint his location.

Kenobi would easily do it; he lived near Luke for five years and was able to thoroughly study the child's imprint in the Force.

The true danger laid elsewhere. The kidnapper was a Dark Side user; the Jedi felt it very clearly. The most probable reason the Dark Side user kidnapped a Force-sensitive child was not that hard to imagine, too – to make him a new apprentice. Nobody would walk past a child with such a gift in the Force.

If the kidnapper or kidnappers decided to just pick up a promising kid, it was one thing. The consequences they could deal with - there were some special techniques in the Jedi arsenal designed for situations just like that. But if the kidnappers actually knew who they kidnapped...

Just thinking about the fact that it would completely destroy their carefully calculated plan if the kidnappers just tell Luke the truth about Vader's identity made hairs on the back of Kenobi's neck bristle.

"What do we do?"

"We're playing a waiting game now" shrugged Shaak Ti. "Meanwhile we should probably visit Maris. She is…"

"Something happened?" Kenobi glanced at her shrewdly.

Togruta Master hunched her head. "She... The massacre in the Temple affected her deeply. There was so much anger in her."

"That's okay, everyone was angry." Obi-Wan smiled grimly. "Except for Sidious, I suppose."

Shaak Ti sighed.

"She... The Darkness took root inside of her. I tried to reassure her, to console her, but Maris... She... I'm afraid that she will break. "

Kenobi's face darkened. "She won't be the first."

"I heard that many of the survivors **fell**."

Kenobi closed his eyes, mournfully pursing his lips. "It's worse than you think. The survivors are many, but they don't want to make contact, either too afraid or too angry. Knights, Padawans..."

"Who?"

"Dendro, Lilith, Nuo, Ferus Olin, Jaric, Meloria, Hallmere, Valara Saar, Cody Tu, Halbret, Falon Gray... And that's only a small part."

"There is no unity" Shaak Ti whispered, closing her eyes.

Kenobi stared blankly into the distance. "No. The Sith succeeded. They have broken us all apart."

* * *

Vader carefully read the report and smiled. His impassive adjutant standing nearby did not see his boss's nightmarish smile, but certainly felt the shift in the Sith' mood.

"Give the whole group a bonus and three days of leave." Datapad lifted in the air and hovered right in front of the mask. "It was very stupid to think that you could have hidden from me indefinitely..."

The screen showed a blurred image of a small ship, photographed by the half-dead camera of some enthusiast, who was sitting on that ill-fated day on one of the sharp rocky peaks, which he was driven to by some kind of incomprehensible soul-searching impulse. Luckily the photo also showed the name of the owner and the planet of registration.

"Very. Stupid." The finger clicked on the name, and the information unfolded on the screen. "Well, hello, Tullon Gar. Tell me who did you sell this piece of flying debris to?"

* * *

"Porridge again..."

"Something's the matter, kid?" Maynard grinned, scooping up a fragrant stew, one glance at which immediately made Luke's stomach grumble.

"Yeah" hissed Skywalker. "A lot of things. All of which I will correct one way or another..."

"Oh my, how terrible we are!" the mercenary snickered, noisily swallowing another spoonful of rich stew. Luke growled. Akaadi grinned, unabashedly amused. Zabrak was very well versed in psychology and honestly enjoyed watching the mercenary he had long since grown tired of cheerfully dig his own grave.

The small monster glaring with hatred at the man, who was practically oozing gleeful self-satisfaction in front of him, clearly had a good memory and incredible patience, which was an amazing feat for his young age in of itself. The boy was also very close to developing a viable plan leading to the death of his enemy – and whether it would be a painful one or not had yet to be seen.

Naturally, Akaadi was not at all against Luke killing or at least seriously maiming Maynard. Either option would satisfy the Sith, but death was preferable. Whatever one may say, all those with sensitivity to the Force dealt in life and death both, as facets of the Great Force.

Both Jedi and Sith tended to go for "negotiations" of varying degrees of aggressiveness and not to bother too much about the fallout, reminding the world that sometimes you can't do good without using your fists.

Current situation was aggravated by the fact that several factors, very important for understanding what was happening, came together at once.

The child accepted Akaadi's leadership, at least **for the moment**. As far as zabrak had been able to understand from reading the Force, Luke believed that temporary submission in exchange for knowledge was an incredibly profitable transaction. He did not consider the Sith guilty of his kidnapping, shifting all the blame on the mercenary, and for a very simple reason: the boy couldn't do anything to the Force ghost, but the mercenary was alive and here and available for the child to take all of his dissatisfaction with the situation on.

It was a very Sith approach, which was good news.

Maynard only made the matters worse after receiving an artifact that suppressed the Force around him, completely relaxing and becoming even more obnoxious than before. The man for some convoluted reason decided that the artifact would protect him from any and all danger - Luke couldn't get anything to mutilate the man with, because all weapons were under locks and keys, the thought of a small child physically overcoming a grown man was laughable, and as for doing something terrible to him via the Force… The kid did not yet possess knowledge or skills necessary for something like that.

And so day by day Maynard became more and more bold, paying the child back for every humiliating trick he pulled on him before tenfold - feeding Luke bland porridge, while gleefully stuffing his own face with meat, commenting on the kid's lack of height and general unimpressiveness in the physical department, outright laughing at the boy's failures when attempting to perform various Force techniques…

The man was clearly an idiot.

No one who had a clue about what the Force was and what Force-users were capable of would mock the child making his first steps on the Dark path. After all, Sith were always known for their vindictiveness. And to thoughtlessly create that kind of enemy…

Then again, zabrak disliked Maynard from the very beginning of their acquaintance. It was not even that the mercenary was not Force-sensitive - the Sith was of the opinion that one should use any resources they had at hand, no matter how unconventional. But the man was too arrogant and over-confident, to the detriment of the common sense even, and, judging by the recent developments, would get what's coming for him sooner rather than later.

Calculating fury in Luke's baby-blue eyes and cold patience with which he waited for the perfect moment to strike assured him of it.

* * *

Vader indifferently looked at the twi'lek, trembling and sniveling on his knees before the Dark Lord, and hastily took a step backwards, not wanting the disgusting creature rushing to kiss his boots in a desperate ploy to get out of this interrogation faster.

The officer conducting the interrogation handed Vader the report, which the latter skimmed through, immediately noting several suspicious moments.

"Verify this information."

The officer nodded and left the interrogation room, while Vader caught the calculating stare of the trafficker and grinned, clenching his fist.

He had eight names. Soon one of them will break and then…

"My lord?" Vader signed and turned his head. "You're being called by the Emperor."

* * *

Sidious watched his apprentice obediently bowing his head with interest.

Vader started tapping into his potential more and more each day, which was good news, even if the driving force behind this personal growth consisted mainly of selfish interests. The death of his wife and his injuries impacted Anakin very strongly. He seemed to have lost his spark, the fire that raged in him from birth, pushing to go forward, to meet the unknown head on, in a single day.

He still trained, studied new things and techniques, but listlessly, only obeying his Master's orders than by personal initiative.

However, as soon as he caught a hint that some of Skywalker's family still survived, albeit in a somewhat reduced form, Anakin immediately woke up, shaking off fatigue and indifference from the smoldering embers of his soul.

Sidious was pleased to note that during this month and half Vader changed for the better, once again transforming from a soulless cyborg with a lot of screws dangerously loose due to overindulging in the Dark Side of the Force to the Chosen One who once attracted the attention of the Sith.

Moreover, Anakin's character finally started to stabilize - painfully and with great difficulty, but still. His behavior often shifted from that of Anakin to Vader - from impetuous impulsiveness to frenzied rage, but Sidious efforts in training his apprentice by the "very little carrot and lots of stick" approach gradually began to bring results.

There were still some minor hiccups, of course, but at least his student stopped stagnating. Vader woke up from his total depression with a renewed thirst for life. The Sith could have kissed the child who was able to create such a miracle just by existing!

Not to mention that he was also a leaving breathing leverage for Sidious to motivate his apprentice with in case the latter decided to act up…

"Tell me, Lord Vader, do you have any news?"

The emperor steepled his fingers, eyeing the man before him musingly. The echoes of Vader's inner torments of having to wait for the results instead of rushing off to punish everyone guilty in person reached the older Sith.

Well, Sidious thought, let him suffer, it's good for the soul. And if his apprentice started being difficult, Sidious could always put him in his place. Force Lightning was, after all, very... useful in the matter of reining the unruly, insubordinate elements in.

"There are several names," Vader said, clenching his fist, "that we're checking now. I feel that we are on the right track."

"That's good," Palpatine nodded, his face relaxing in a benevolent smile, "wonderful even. And now let's get down to business."

* * *

 **Felucia**

Shaak Ti shook her head in response to Kenobi's questioning look. "She's not here."

"That's not good."

Maris disappeared, and everything indicated that it was on her own accord. All of her personal items were missing and the shelter stood empty and cold - the girl clearly left it immediately after Shaak Ti departed.

Kenobi closed his eyes, trying to read the Force. "It's not good..." Master pursed his lips in displeasure. "I can't see anything clearly, but she was not alone. Someone else was there. Someone Dark."

"Maris..."

"She left with him or them voluntarily."

Togruta closed her eyes, worried and disturbed in equal measures. "So, she Fell too."

"It seems so."

"What now?" Togruta looked at her partner with dry eyes.

"We will search for the child. Although... We should probably try to follow Maris and the others, I have several addresses. I'm afraid that all this activity and the timing of it is not accidental."

"You think..?"

"Luke. Someone found out about him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The Force is clear on that matter."

Shaak Ti nodded thoughtfully. She didn't have any reason to doubt Kenobi. Despite everything, Obi-Wan became a Master by right. Few people knew, but Master Qui-Gon's former Padawan was extremely sensitive to the Force, or rather, he surrendered himself completely to its will. That was why he often made paradoxical at first glance decisions that in the end always turned the situation to his advantage. Of course, he was also not without his own vices, but who didn't have at least a few of those?

Kenobi never was a weakling. Yes, he could be hard and short and pulled no punches. Yes, he could be obstinate and bullheaded. He could be boring and pissed people off left, right and center with his nitpicker tendencies. But he was never a fool.

Which, in Shaak Ti's humble opinion, did not always excuse that man' many character flaws, but that was neither here nor there.

* * *

The meeting was set up on some small planet, dusty and remote – in other words, perfect. The assembled company may have appeared ordinary, but only at a first glance. If, for example, a professional took a look at them, he would have noticed their sharp movements, economical and calculated, their bodies more flexible and mobile than normal by an order of magnitude, their body language a little too predatory.

They did not speak aloud, but constantly exchanged looks with each other and listened to something beyond the reach of ordinary people.

The company was mixed, consisting of humans, zabraks and twi'leks.

All of them were strangely similar, not in appearance, but in behavior and strong aura of Force emanating from them.

The professional would have realized that something was not right with this company immediately, but, fortunately or unfortunately, no one was there to do it.

"Is it true?!"

"Yes. I stumbled upon this information by chance."

"Amazing! What an opportunity!"

"The danger ..."

"To hell with danger! I want to do it!

"Excellent. What about the rest of you?"

"I'll do anything to get revenge on this monster!"

"Great. Then we'll start our search. And I'll go to my source, maybe he'd be able to find out something more."

* * *

Everything was terrible. Awful. Luke wanted to crawl into a corner and cry, or better still - to burrow deep into a bolt hole, taking a stick of grenades or a flamethrower with him to ward off possible visitors.

The realization that everything was terrible came to Luke at night. Waking up at three o'clock in the morning, his heart beating like crazy, throat dry as a desert and body completely paralyzed with terror, the boy fruitlessly tried to calm down, taking deep breathes and thinking good thoughts.

It took him two hours to regain some semblance of rationality.

"What in the blazes was that ..." Luke took another deep breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with trembling hand. "I almost kicked the bucket from sheer terror. And... Better check. "

The boy lowered his hand with trepidation and then exhaled with relief upon finding his pants dry. He had never been so afraid before - neither in past life, nor in this. Even the Krayt dragon incident was nothing compared to what he just experienced.

Unable to stand the tension, Luke stood up and dragged his bag with a lightsaber and a pearl hidden inside closer. The lightsaber felt cold to his clammy, sweaty hands, shocking his body into finally waking up completely and giving him the needed boost to shake off the last clinging remains of a nightmare.

The pearl, on the other hand, was blazing with heat. Luke curled around it, slowly warming up.

"That's not good. Not good at all. Something happened. Thank you..." the boy passed the hand gently over the pearl and then over the lightsaber hidden under the pillow. "I'll be ready."

He hadn't been able to fall asleep again.

The next morning Akaadi looked at his high-strung student, nervously darting his eyes around, and gave the child a full load of work to keep him busy. The day dragged on and on with Luke levitating various objects and trying to convince himself that the size did not matter, and Akaadi nodding supportively in response to his successes and silently debating with himself whether to reward the kid with sweets or not.

Maynard had been gone for a week already. The mercenary received some kind of disturbing message, after which he rushed off somewhere to clarify the situation. The only thing that pleased Luke was the fact that the man took the artifact off after a meaningful look from Akaadi.

So now he finally had a chance to do what Skywalker has been dreaming about for quite some time.

Revenge would be sweet.

* * *

"What do you think, Nur?"

"Maine, I'll ask only once," the elderly, smart-looking man stared searchingly at the mercenary who had collapsed in the armchair. "What did you do to attract the ISS attention?"

"Nothing!" Maynard dismissed the accusation snappishly. "Nothing special, in any case. Why?"

"I've heard that they are looking for your ship. You know why?"

"Actually, yeah, probably. I bought it from Garr at a cheap rate..."

"So it's stolen. Get rid of it."

"I'll have to..." sighed Maynard. "Anything else?"

"No. I heard about this only because one of my relatives serves in the Fleet. He's a second fiddle, but it suits us."

"I see" said the man. What was there to misunderstand? Family connections always played a huge role in every kind of business, so there was nothing strange or surprising that an officer of the Fleet would supply his relatives with information useful to those who engage in illegal activities.

"So, it's something the previous owners did."

"Maybe. Just take care of it, yeah?"

"Okay."

Maynard stood up, put down a card with credits and then left. He had a lot to think about.

Ogun watched him go and then took the card and returned to business. The sun had almost set, when the man making a living by gathering and selling information and by playing intermediary had finished working. Standing up, he stretched out, turning his neck this and that way, loosening his stiff muscles and wincing with pain.

And that was when the door flew open and stormtroopers, a single glance upon which had the man sweating bullets, rushed into the office. 501 Legion. Vader's Fist.

Ogun, frozen like a statue, stared at the doorway in horror. The sound of heavy footsteps and steady mechanical breathing was coming closer and closer. And then a tall man in black armor and a long cloak stepped into the office and the adjutant that came with him carefully closed the door behind them. The chair slid into the middle of the huge room and Vader sat down silently, spreading his cloak and promptly taking the datapad from the officer, taking a casual look at the displayed information.

"Ogun. There's only one question I want you to answer. Where's your friend Maynard?"

The information dealer inadvertently threw a glance toward the door and immediately stiffened, his hands clutching at his throat.

"What an interesting reaction..." Vader whispered, getting up and taking a step closer. "Why's that, I wonder?"

An invisible hand gripped the shaking man by the throat and dragged him closer to Vader. And then Ogun could only scream because it felt like his head was being cleaved in two.

Vader, not caring one bit about the man twitching in convulsions, poured through his memories, digging into his mind with a single-minded intensity. Finally finding what he was looking for after a few literally torturous minutes, Vader threw Ogun's unconscious body aside, and growled: "Maynard. He was here six hours ago."

The adjutant nodded in understanding and hurriedly left. His place was promptly taken by the team of investigators, who would turn the office upside down but find every shred of evidence for their Lord. No one paid any attention to Ogun, curled up and drooling on the floor - his fate was already determined. After finally coming to himself he would be interrogated. And who knew, maybe he would regret not being killed by Vader yet.

* * *

Another morning greeted Luke with horrible mood of the "want to kill everyone in sight" variety. After waking up much earlier than usual, the boy tidied himself and grimly started packing, neatly folding his clothing and throwing his favorite toy, dragon's pearl, a few useful trifles and a couple of field rations inside the bag.

After some deliberation Luke finally decided to fasten the knife to his hand, thanking the Force for his wide sleeves capable of hiding much more useful things than just a knife. He really wanted to fasten the lightsaber to the other one in the same fashion, but was forced to abandon this idea after realizing that it would still bulge a little too obviously, after which the saber went into the bag.

Carefully inspecting the room one last time, Luke put his bag on, tightening the straps, and then went to get himself some breakfast.

" _Soon_ " he felt. " _Something's going to happen soon. Any minute now_."

* * *

Maynard swept his eyes over the jungle, disgruntled and wary, before making his way to the entrance of the base. A cruel grin spread on his face. The mercenary immediately understood who was the true source of the trouble he found himself in.

The boy.

What was he bleating about at the very beginning? That someone would be searching for him? But why would the ISS show any interest towards some farmer's son from the bedraggled little planet? All of it smelled fishy.

Tapping the code, Maynard entered the base, heading to the living area through the long corridor. He found the boy in the dining room in the process of hungrily scarfing down the huge piece of meat out of Maynard's personal supplies, almost purring with pleasure.

Catching the sight of mercenary frozen in shock in the doorway, Luke vindictively grinned and, deliberately biting off another piece of meat, started chewing with obnoxious satisfaction. By the time the child finished his meal, carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin under Akaadi's approving gaze Maynard was red with rage.

"You little bastard..." Maynard hissed, finally breaking from his stupor and taking a step forward.

"Want some porridge?" innocently inquired the boy, smiling sated little smile. The man snarled, lunging towards the child, his arms outstretched to better wrap his fingers around the brat's scrawny neck and _squeeze_ , blinded by white-hot explosive fury and completely forgetting that he actually had to wear an artifact or report his findings to Akaadi.

In the next moment the boy, who instinctively shielded himself from assault, sharply shot his hands forward, scratching mercenary's throat with a knife dangerously close to the cervical artery. Maynard staggered back, putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding with one hand and fumbling for the blaster with another, while Luke scowled angrily, disappointed that he didn't manage to mortally wound the mercenary with one blow.

Akaadi raised an eyebrow in amazement and moved closer to better watch the unfolding entertainment.

The blaster Maynard was attempting to draw was not there. In fact, his whole poach belt was very conveniently missing.

Luke trained to exhaustion in order to learn how to unfasten the buckle with the Force, sacrificing hours of sleep at a time, and not in vain as evidenced by how he managed to drag the poach from the mercenary while the latter was distracted with stopping his throat from bleeding out.

Luke picked up the blaster, gripping the uncomfortably huge handle tighter, carefully aimed and pulled the trigger, mentally thanking the Force, that it was not a firearm, otherwise the shot would have probably broken his wrist.

In the resulting blast the mercenary was thrown aside – still only wounded, and not killed.

"Not bad, apprentice," Akaadi nodded approvingly. "What are you going to do now?"

"Skedaddle," Luke answered honestly, pulling the chair to the shelf with the Force-suppressing artifact on it.

"Are you running away from _me_?" the ghost narrowed his eyes.

"Nah! From the uninvited guests who will shortly be there. Don't you feel it?"

Zabrak narrowed his eyes, his glow intensifying. Somewhere in the back of the room Maynard tried to get up, wheezing and gurgling, but fell again.

Luke climbed onto a chair, reaching for the artifact. Of course he could have tried to levitate it with the Force, but Luke was still not all that confident in his control and didn't want to risk the "orange" falling to the floor and breaking. After having secured it to his belt, the boy jumped down, throwing a wary glance at the still moving Maynard, and rushed out the dining room to get his bag.

"And where are you headed?"

"Teacher," Luke adjusted the bag and turned to zabrak. "Do you remember my warning at the beginning?"

"And?" Akaadi tensed, mentally frowning at himself. During all this time he didn't think to ask one important question... "Just who exactly are you, boy?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," the child proudly straightened, puffing out his skinny chest. "Luke Skywalker, son of Darth Vader."

"Hmm!"

Akaadi closed his eyes to contemplate the unexpected news, folding his arms over his chest. Son of the Dark Lord... The reason for some oddities in his behavior, which zabrak dismissed before, suddenly became much clearer.

"I warned you that someone would be looking for me."

"And who's looking for you now?"

"Firstly, there is dad. Secondly, there is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master of the Jedi Order. Thirdly, there are dad's and Kenobi's enemies. Well, and everyone else, I suppose."

"So many choices."

"You don't say!" Luke sighed, rolling his eyes. "Teacher, I want to make you an offer that you cannot refuse!"

"Oh really?" the ghost skeptically smiled, looking at the boy trying to bargain with him. He could stop Luke at any moment, but why not listen to his version of the situation? He was not Malak, after all, raging and mindless! He had brains and was not afraid to use them. "I'm listening."

"As far as I understand, you want to revive the Order of the Sith, right?"

"Yes. I vehemently disagree with Bane's rule of two. It is degrading!"

"Good. I promise to contribute to the execution of your idea, and you will help me to get to my father alive and preferably unscathed."

"And how do you intend to "contribute?"

"I'll talk to grandpa!" shrugged the child brazenly. "I think he will not be against it."

"And who is your grandfather?"

"Why, the Emperor, of course!

Akaadi looked at the child patiently waiting for his answer, and for the first time in a very long time felt out of his depth. However, Maynard's wheezing distracted the ghost from trying to make sense of a situation right away, and he gladly turned his attention to a more familiar problem.

"I wonder how long would he last…" muttered the boy with clinical interest. Akaadi swept the dying man with an experienced look.

"He is admittedly rather resilient, so probably around thirty minutes. Are you going to finish him off? "

"What for? He will die one way or another. On the other hand... You are absolutely right, teacher. It's bad practice, leaving your enemies behind alive. Best get into the habit of cleaning after myself from the very start."

Luke reached into the bag and pulled out the lightsaber.

"And you somehow have a saber, too..." Akaadi rubbed his chin.

"Yes. But this one is my father's."

"And what about yours?"

"I don't know how to make one yet" Luke sighed, activating the saber and sizing up Maynard's twitching body. In one smooth movement the mercenary lost his head – literally.

"Would you like me to teach you?" softly asked Akaadi.

Luke's eyes flashed. "Yessss."

"Of course you'll need to get a crystal first..."

"No, I don't!" the child jumped, obviously excited. "I already have something even better! The Krayt-dragon's pearl!

"Where did you get it?" zabrak marveled.

"From the dragon, of course!" the child blinked at him innocently. "The one I killed myself."

"Oh, sweet Force!"

The ghost looked at the raw pearl lying on the boy's palm and felt himself falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole.

"You know what, Luke," the ghost narrowed his eyes. "I'll accept your proposal. But with the condition."

"Yeah?"

"I will remain your first Teacher."

"Accepted, Teacher Akaadi!" Luke stood on one knee, tilted his head respectfully and then immediately jumped up. "Now let's get out of there! The enemies are coming closer!"

"Yes. Let's hurry."

Under the ghost's gaze a holocron flew out of the inconspicuous niche and headed toward Luke. The child grabbed the pyramid, whistled, weighed it in his hand, and hid it in a bag.

"All that is mine I carry with me!" announced Luke.

The door swung open, letting out one boy and one ghost.

"Let us go then, apprentice! The only way is forward!"

The door closed.


End file.
